


Escape

by Kassandrea



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Angst, Danger, Escape, F/M, Falling In Love, Kidnapping, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:22:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kassandrea/pseuds/Kassandrea
Summary: After the battle of Winchester peace is settled and some weeks later Uthred and his trusted men take charge of King Edwards illegitimate son to travel with him to Northumbria.Eadith is left behind in Winchester, so she has to make her own decisions... but things do not go as planned.
Comments: 42
Kudos: 32





	1. Burning bridges

**Author's Note:**

> So I used the new lockdown to dwell upon some new ideas and started to write a new fic, hope you like it! (it's still our "favourite pair", hopefully it helps to shorten the waiting time for Season 5!!)

Eadith stopped on the docks to take in the picture that lay in front of her… the ships swaying softly upon the waves the upcoming wind was pushing onshore.  
It could have been a beautiful sight, with the first sunrays showing between the otherwise grey clouds, but it wasn‘t. Not to her.  
One of these ships was going to take her to Frankia soon. The passage was arranged, the prize paid and once she was onboard she might never return to the British shores again. The thought scared her more than the risk of the journey itself. However, it had been her decision.  
A fortnight ago King Edward had asked Uthred to take care of Aesthelstan, the shy boy who was supposedly the rightful heir to the throne of Wessex – a fact that would make him the target of intrigues and maybe assassination, which is why King Edward was worried about his safety.  
Uthred had agreed – what choice did he have ? And so he had ridden to Northumbria with his trusted men and a young boy who might one day be the king of England. What exactly his plans were, he wouldn‘t tell and Eadith wondered if his men knew more. Maybe Finan did. Eadith knew the Irishman was more than just Uthreds right hand man – he was Uthred‘s closest friend … the bond between them as tight as brothers.  
Yes, Finan might know – but he wouldn‘t share this knowledge and certainly not with her.  
She took a deep breath full of salty morning air and felt her head getting clearer. She would not think about Finan anymore. She had thought about him way too often during these last weeks. It had gotten her nowhere.  
There was the ship waiting for her to take her across the channel … far away from Aegelsburg, from Winchester … from all the people she had lost or left behind. It was time for her to move on, to start a new life.  
As if to confirm her thoughts a sudden flash of sunlight broke through the clouds, a welcome warmth touching her face, causing her to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling. In a way it felt like the soft touch of a human hand. The memory of another hand touching her softly came back to her … Finan’s hand, caressing her cheek after he had bandaged her broken ribs. His touch had stirred so much in her – and yet, the memory was painful now.  
He was gone. They were all gone, had left her in Winchester among people who regarded her with suspicion, some even with contempt, at least that was how she felt. Of course, King Edward had been polite, had even asked about her state of health, but that politeness had soon faded into indifference. The king had so many things to care about – the rebuilding of Winchester, the brand new and maybe unsteady peace with the Danes … and furthermore his mother, Lady Aelswith, was still suffering from a mysterious sickness that seemed to weaken her more and more, and if and when she would recover, was very uncertain to say the least.  
Lady Aethelflaed had wanted to return to Mercia after peace was made but the critical state of her mother was still delaying her departure. Young Aelfwynn was here as well, yet under the supervision of the noblewomen of the palace, Queen Aelflaed and her ladies, and Eadith hardly had a chance to catch a glimpse of the young girl.  
Finally there was Lord Aethelhelm, the king’s most trusted advisor, sneaking around like a ghost and watching her with scrutinizing eyes that made her shiver. She wondered why King Edward relied on him so much – she wouldn’t have trusted the man at all, he was led by ambition and would stop at nothing to secure his daughter’s power – and the succession to the throne for his grandson.  
Edward had been right to send young Aethelstan away from court. It was the only chance to protect him. And if anyone could accomplish this task, it was Uthred.  
She sent a quick prayer to the now almost sunny sky … watch over them, Lord – don’t let anything happen to the kid … no ambush, no attack …  
Deep inside she knew it was not only Aethelstan she was praying for. These men had grown dear to her and in a naive way she had been hoping to stay with them even after the battle of Winchester. How stupid of her! She was a woman, unmarried and without a family to protect her, and therefore there were not many possibilities for her. Had Aethelflaed offered her to join her household in Mercia, she would have accepted gladly – but the Lady of the Mercians had made it very clear that this was impossible. Whether she still held a grudge against Eadith for having been the mistress of her late husband or whether she just wanted to prevent bad talk at court – Eadith couldn’t tell.  
In fact, there was no use in wondering about it – the outcome was the same. Lady Aethelflaed had offered her a place in a nunnery which was a common option for women in her situation but she had turned down the offer.  
Instead, she had sent a letter to Frankia, where her father’s sister Elinor lived. Elinor had married a nobleman in Normandy when Eadith was still a child and she had only seen her once ever since. That was the time when her father had not yet been disgraced and they traveled to Frankia to negotiate a betrothal with the son of a noble Frenchman for Eadith. She had been eleven then and had not even met the young man in person but she knew it was her duty to marry whom her father chose for her.  
However, the man died of the plague only two years later (and before the marriage could be completed). And after that the descent of her family began, ending with the execution of her father. There had not been another betrothal since. Not that she was sorry for that. The thought of being “traded” to some guy only to gain land and wealth for her family or to seal a truce of peace was not appealing to her. Meanwhile she was too old, anyway. She was twenty-five and a woman with the reputation of a whore – who would marry her? She had no wealth, no name, no land. She was no one, just like young Aethelstan used to call himself.  
The thought made her swallow hard.  
Nevertheless her aunt had answered her letter and assured her she would be welcome in her household at any time she chose. And now she was here on the docks, watching the ships and waiting for her departure … to Frankia, to a new home, a new life.  
The letter from her aunt had arrived shortly after Uthred and his men had left, so she doubted they even knew about her departure. It was better this way. Saying goodbye to Aelfwynn had been hard enough … she was not sure she could muster the strength to face Finan and the rest of the band. To be honest, she had been avoiding the Irishman for days and had not even watched them ride out of Winchester. Fact was, she was too angry and too disappointed … and it was all because of the kiss. Dear God, this stupid, embarrassing kiss!  
Even remembering it now made her cheeks flush.  
It had happened after the feast following the reconquering of Winchester and the settling of peace with Sigtryggr. She had enjoyed the banquet in the company of Uthred’s men and felt elated despite her aching ribs. The sweet red wine did the rest, making her feel light and dizzy, and when Finan offered to walk her back to her room, she couldn’t just say goodnight.  
Instead she put her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his. It was just that she hadn’t foreseen that the mere touch of his mouth on hers would completely wipe out her self-control. She ended up clinging to him as if she were drowning, moaning softly against his lips while her heart beat frantically in her chest – until he suddenly broke off the kiss and shove her back. For a few horrible moments he stared at her without saying a word, enough time for her to realize what she must look like, disheveled and panting, desire showing clearly on her face – before he murmured an excuse and turned around to leave her standing alone in the hallway.  
The rejection felt like a slap right in her face.  
She had been humiliated before, used by men ever since she was a lass of fifteen, given by her own father to a man about three times her age whom he wanted to win for his cause (which was in vain but cost her her maidenhood). Yet never she had been denied by a man she wanted (had she ever desired someone the way she desired the Irishman that night? She doubted it and it made things even worse).  
The unfulfilled desire, mixed with shame and embarrassment, had made it impossible for her to find sleep that night. So she left her room at sunrise, walking around through the empty streets of the city, trying to get a clear head in the cool morning air - and that was when she saw him, stepping out of the brothel in nothing but his tunic and breeches, looking disheveled like a man who had spent the past hours drinking … and – for certain - whoring around.  
That was when her heart, hurt and bruised before, seemed to break.  
She knew that Finan had a reputation as a ladies’ man, extending to peasant maids as well as alehouse wenches… she had heard enough talk about him having no difficulties to find a woman to bed wherever they went. That was the way it was with warriors, women were attracted to them like moths to the fire, and Finan with his handsome face, not yet disfigured by scars like so many others, was one of their favourites, for sure.  
She didn’t judge him for that neither for going to a brothel, it was common for most men, no matter if they were married or not and she knew Uthred and the other warriors went there as well. Yet the feeling that Finan chose common whores over her struck her like a blow. She had almost lost herself in that kiss – and he rejected her to enjoy the favors of some harlot in a filthy whorehouse. The thought was simply unbearable.  
When the first pain receded, the anger came. Who was he to humiliate her that way? Osferth had been right calling him a “bloody Irish bastard” – that’s exactly what he was! A goddamn Irish bastard, even if – as a good Christian woman – she would never speak it out loud.  
How could she fall for him?  
Luckily, King Edward decided a few days later to give Aesthelstan into Uthred’s custody and shortly after that they set off to Northumbria. She had seen Finan just a few times in the meantime, avoiding him the best she could. They had not spoken in private anymore and she had the feeling he was avoiding her as well.  
She straightened and walked towards the ship. From the second she set foot on the vessel, this chapter of her life would be closed forever. The sooner the better. In fact, she could hardly wait.  
Unfortunately fate should prove her wrong.


	2. Caught in a trap

The ship that should take her to Frankia was a merchant’s ship, a so-called knorr, shorter and wider than the longboats of the vikings. Men were busy loading its belly with chests and barrels, walking to and fro, talking and sometimes cursing while the ship owner, a Norman merchant, watched them scrutinously. He was distracted, however, when a burly man in leather armour stepped up to him. His long braided hair as well as his battleaxe showed him off as a Dane and there was something faintly familiar about him as he talked intensely to the merchant.   
Eadith slowed her steps and caught a glimpse of the Norman’s face. He looked confused … and frightened. The realization made her stop, her instincts warning her.  
Something was wrong.  
The viking turned around to face her and she froze when she looked in Haesten’s eyes. A wolfish grin spread over his face as he watched her, clearly satisfied with himself.   
Like a cornered deer all her senses urged her to flee and she whirled around only to bump into two tall Danes standing behind her, laughing at her startled outcry.  
She was trapped.  
Slowly she turned around and lifted her chin to meet the eyes of her captor.   
“I heard you survived the battle of Winchester,” he drawled. “Lucky you were, lass. Did our friend Uthred help you out?”  
“It may surprise you, but I can help myself out most of the time,” she replied dryly.  
He gave a short laugh.  
“Maybe, most of the time. Not now, anyway.”  
“There is peace between Danes and Saxons,” she countered. “I’m sure you heard that as well. Sigtryggr and King Eduard came to a consent. There is no fighting anymore. So you should step aside and let me go onboard this ship. I’ve paid this man for a passage.”   
Haesten chuckled. Of course, he didn’t step aside, she had expected nothing else.  
“Hope you didn’t pay too much ‘cause you’re not going anywhere. You’ll come with me – voluntarily or not, I don’t care.” He stepped closer so that she could smell his bad breath, yet she stood her ground.   
“I won’t. I’ve been escorted here by men from Lady Aethelflaed’s guard, they will - “  
He grabbed her chin with his calloused hand and made her stop talking.  
“Do you speak of this turd Aldhelm and his men? Unfortunately I saw them leave yesterday – so don’t tell me horseshit!”  
She bit her lip, his touch making her feel sick. He let go of her and snapped: “Enough talking, Lady – will you join us now or do you want me to force you? “  
She swallowed hard, sending a quick look to the boatmen who had stopped to watch the scene … to the merchant who scratched his head, obviously feeling uneasy. They would outnumber the Danes – but they were only sailors, unarmed and certainly no serious opponents for Haesten’s battle-worn warriors. No one would come to her aid.   
She could try to run, of course. Yet that was what the Danes were prepared for, she wouldn‘t get far.  
She was trapped, indeed.  
With a sigh she turned and followed the Danish warriors along the docks, away from the ship that had been supposed to take her to her new life.

Would that be her new life? she mused while they rode out of town.   
Taken prisoner by a Danish warband, held hostage – with no one to pay a ransom for her… sooner or later they would sell her into slavery - after Haesten had enough of her! Just the idea made her shiver inside and she had to muster all her strength not to show it, for Haesten had put her in front of him on his horse, holding her pressed against his body with an iron grip. From time to time his big hand slid upward and touched her breast, he thought it fun to humiliate her that way. Fortunately neither he nor his men had bothered to search her for weapons and she still had her knife, hidden beneath her dress – the one she had used to kill a Dane before, after Haesten had hung Uthred and his men upside down on a tree. She could kill another one, she was sure of it – but there were three Danes, besides Haesten himself … and she was but a woman. They would cut her throat in a heartbeat.   
So she’d have to be patient and wait for her chance.   
Where would they take her? She could tell they were heading North, the sunrays warming her right cheek and later, as they were moving on and on, her back. She wondered if Winchester was their destination but it seemed unlikely – too many Saxons there, after Sigtryggr and his Danes had left.  
They stopped only to relieve themselves and when Eadith had to do so, a Dane stood beside her, watching her and chuckling at her obvious discomfort. Bloody bastards, they were.  
As it grew darker, Haesten gave order to set up a camp. It was the end of September and after sunset, it got noticeably colder. The Danes struck a fire and Eadith couldn’t resist to move closer to the welcome warmth. Haesten had bound her wrists with thin leather straps and she felt like a tethered horse, the straps so tight they cut into her flesh. He gave her some bread and watched her while she ate hungrily.  
“I’ve told my men - if you try to run – the first one to get you can hump you,” he said casually. “So you better don’t even think about it. They are keen on it, you see.”  
She swallowed but held his gaze nevertheless.  
“And I thought you wanted me for your own pleasure,” she replied dryly.  
He grinned, then took another piece of bread.   
“I dunno,” he said, chewing. “You fucked that arseling of Mercia. And I heard you traveled with Uthred and his bunch of bloody bastards … did he hump you, too? Or another of his men – the monk or that damned Irishman, maybe?”  
She paled and lowered her eyes instinctively – realizing too late that it was a mistake.   
Haesten gave a malicious laugh.  
“So I’m right – am I not? You fucked the Irish bastard!” He reached for her, pulling her closer despite her resistance. “Stupid bitch – you should have waited for me!”   
His physical closeness let her heart race, she felt sick.  
“I didn’t – but that’s none of your business,” she hissed. “If you think me a whore, so why did you abduct me? I’ll only slow your travel. Why didn’t you let me board this ship and leave Wessex?”   
He let go of her and leaned back, smiling.  
“I have my reasons, Lady,” he drawled. “And one of them is that I’m sure they will come for you… Uthred and the others. He slipped through my hands too often – this time I’m gonna get him and finally cut his damn throat – and the others’ as well!” His grin grew wider as he added: “And whore or not – I’m gonna hump you soon and as often as I like!”  
She stared back, hoping he wouldn’t see the fear behind her stare. With a grunt he lay back and turned away from her to face the fire. Tonight was not the night he would carry out his threat. Not yet. Shivering she pulled her cloak closer around herself. She would try to find some sleep … she needed her strength for the days to come.   
In the end sleep didn’t come. The cold crept through her dress and her cape, the snoring of Haesten and his men didn’t stop for a minute, although one of them was always awake, keeping watch. The thoughts racing through her mind did the rest to chase off any chance of sleep.  
What made Haesten so sure that Uthred would come to her rescue? If she were Lady Aethelflaed, he surely would. But she was no princess, not even a honourable woman anymore. She was the daughter of a disgraced ealdorman and the mistress of a dead lord. In fact, she was no one.  
She wondered if Haesten even knew that Uthred and his warriors had left Winchester, heading north. Probably not, unless he still had spies in Winchester.   
A wave of desperation washed over her and suddenly she felt like crying.   
Crying for her lost hope of a new life in Frankia, crying for the loss of her family, for the loss of the men who felt like close friends to her for a while … and crying for the loss of the man she had fallen for all too easily.  
She let the tears come, knowing that no one would see them in the darkness, at least if she suppressed the sobs. The days to come would hardly allow her to let herself go and she felt so weak, it was a relief just to weep.  
So she cried herself to sleep but even then she found no rest. Bad dreams haunted her, dreams of storms and sinking ships and children drowning in the raging waters, children with the faces of Aethelstan and Aelfwynn...


	3. The wolf and his prey

She awoke when a foot kicked her side and the pain shot through her body, reminding her that her broken ribs had not yet healed completely. A sound of pain escaped her, whereupon her tormentor chuckled softly. It was a big brawny man with shaggy long hair and a scarred face and she could see he was about to kick her once more, so she quickly rolled over and hurried to get on her feet.  
It was still dark but when she looked up to the sky she could see a faint glow of light. Sunrise was not far.  
Haesten urged his men to move on, pack their belongings and put out the fire and within about a quarter of an hour they were on horseback again, moving on northward.  
Eadith felt like a drunkard the morning after: head aching, stomach reeling … if Haesten hadn’t picked her up, she’d had problems to mount her horse. After a scrutinizing look at her face, he cut the strips that bound her wrists and handed her a flask of water.  
“You’re not going to faint, are you?” he growled. She took a long swig and shook her head without saying a word. Haesten gave a snort and got on the horse, grabbing her firmly as he had done the day before. This time she felt almost thankful for being held, although his presence and his smell were still repelling.  
They rode for hours and hours, hardly speaking to each other, stopping only to eat some dried meat and bread and to feed the horses, and when they settled again for the night, Eadith was certain they had passed Winchester. Maybe they were heading towards Mercia or even Northumbria which was Danelaw still.  
This second night she was so exhausted that she fell asleep almost right where Haesten let her dismount the horse, not caring about what he or his men could do to her … but nobody touched her and she slept all night long, the kind of deep dreamless sleep that followed complete exhaustion.  
The next day the weather changed. Rain started to fall in heavy drops and soon all of them were wet to the bone and freezing in the cold wind that blew from the East. Eadith could hardly keep her teeth from chattering and again she was thankful for Haesten’s broad body behind her, yet he didn’t stop cursing the damn country and its damn weather and his curses grew more colorful the longer they rode. In the afternoon he decided not to camp in the outdoors again.  
“I’m too old for this fucking weather!” he growled as they steered towards a remote farmhouse.  
The peasant and his family were scared to death by the appearance of the Danish warriors and first Eadith feared the Danes might slaughter them right away but Haesten took the opportunity and ordered them to cook a warm meal and bring some ale.  
In the meantime the uninvited guests made themselves comfortable inside the cottage which was more a shack than a house, dark and musty and full of smoke from a low fire – thanks to a smokepit that obviously hadn’t been cleaned for a long time. There was no furniture save for a rough bench and a wooden table, some straw pallets in the corners serving as beds.  
The meal was little more than a thin porridge, but it at least brought some warmth into their bellies. After she had finished, Eadith finally felt alive again, strengthened to face her destiny. Unfortunately the meal had the same effect on Haesten and he watched her with narrowed eyes gleaming with lust, while he was emptying one mug of ale after the other. She tried to avoid his gaze and to bring some distance between them as unobtrusively as she could manage but in vain.  
The moment was close for him to claim his prey, she knew it, felt it instinctively.  
Her mind was racing, searching for a way out, while her hand involuntarily felt for the knife hidden under her skirts. It was there – reminding her of that day in the forest when she had found a way to rescue Uthred and his men, when she thought sharply and came up with a plan that worked. When she had stabbed the Danish warrior, watching him die in front of her, spilling his blood and looking at her in sheer astonishment.  
She could stab Haesten, too, if she waited for the right moment. But that would not save her. His men would overpower her within a few seconds and then – what? Rape her most certainly, mistreat her, probably kill her in the end. There was no help to expect from the frightened peasant family.  
So what was there to gain? She could as well let him abuse her, let him still his lust and try to emerge unscathed from the rape. In fact she had endured rape before – more than once – and it had not broken her.  
She had been so deep in her thoughts she almost jumped when he grabbed her arm. He had moved closer, cornering her between the wall and the table with his bulky body, and when she met his eye she saw unconcealed lust and a kind of malicious glee. He would enjoy it – not only to fulfill his desire but to scare her, to humiliate her – he was this sort of man. Pain and fear would double his pleasure.  
Now his rough hand came and slid under her skirts, touching her calf, moving upward.  
She held her breath, suppressing a shiver.  
Haesten grinned.  
“No way to run, lady,” he drawled. “I’ve been waiting for that far too long...”  
She winced and turned, knowing she could reach her knife with her left hand if she decided to do so. Which she wasn’t sure of.  
“Get your hands off me,” she hissed. “or I’ll rip your balls off!” She almost shocked herself by using such words, but it was a try, at least.  
Indeed Haesten was knocked off balance for a second – but then he bellowed with laughter. His eyes held a spark of admiration, yet it was displaced by lust a moment later.  
“So she’s a whore more than a lady,” he commented, seemingly amused. “I guessed so from the start!” His hand crept up to her thigh. Eadith bit her lip, heard the dirty laughter of Haesten’s men from where they squatted, close to the door. They were enjoying this game, eager to see what came next – probably eager to watch him rape her.  
Haesten stopped to look over his shoulder, maybe the same thought had occurred to him. It seemed to annoy him.  
“Out!” he growled. “Out with you – all of you!”  
The men stopped laughing and stared at him.  
“Out, Lord?” one of them repeated dumbfoundedly.  
“Are you deaf or stupid?” Haesten barked. “I don’t need you to watch when I hump her! So get up and move your asses outta here!”  
The men rose slowly, murmuring to each other – they were not pleased with Haesten’s order, so much was clear and Eadith didn’t know if she should be relieved in a way.  
“Lord, it’s raining outside…,” a scar-faced man with shaggy red hair tried to argue, but Haesten’s temper was short.  
“Out!” He grabbed the mug and whirled it at the man who ducked and slipped out in the darkness without another word.  
Had the situation been different, Eadith would have laughed but there was no reason for laughter.  
Still she was trapped and still she didn’t know what to do. Her hand moved down her side, touching the handle of the knife.  
Haesten had turned back to her, leering at her. He stretched out his hand to pull her closer, brought his foul-smelling mouth close to hers.  
“Relax, lady, you’re going to enjoy this …” he drawled before pressing his mouth on hers, forcing it open with his tongue. She grabbed the handle while struggling under his weight, under the brutal force of his kiss … just as the thin wailing of a child started to fill the room.  
Haesten froze, his mouth leaving hers to growl: “What the hell!”  
He pulled back, looked around wildly before spotting the peasant family curled together in the darkest corner of the shack. One of the children had started to cry while the woman desperately tried to silence it with shushing noises.  
“Will you stop this clamor, damned wife, or do I have to cut the little bastard’s throat?” Haesten shouted but the wailing grew even louder, only stopped when he rose and made two steps toward the group. Maybe the frightened woman had stifled the crying with her hand.  
Eadith took the chance to slip away from the corner where she had been trapped and when Haesten turned around he gave an annoyed grunt.  
“By the gods, woman, shall I hunt you all over this sleazy place or what?” he sighed and took a step towards her.  
“Lord - “ The red-haired man appeared in the door again, looking like a soaked rat, his hair dripping with rain. Behind him the other two huddled together with grim faces, soaking wet as well. “I’m sorry but … it’s pouring with rain and – we could need some cloaks ...”  
Haesten looked as if he were in good mood to cut their throats as well, yet finally he gave an exasperated sigh and made a gesture with his arm to indicate they should come back in.  
He stepped to one of the straw pallets and rubbed his face before stretching out on the makeshift bed.  
“You keep watch, Tjødr,” he growled. “Make sure the Saxon bitch is still here in the morning or I’ll cut your damn head off!”

It took a while until Eadith’s breath calmed down and her pulse returned to normal. For tonight she would be safe, so it seemed … her knife unused. She sent a short prayer to God who had held his protective hand over her – saved her from being raped or from killing another man or maybe both.  
She still smelled Haesten’s sour breath, felt the disgusting push of his tongue inside her mouth and had to keep herself from retching.  
A sudden flash of remembrance sent tears welling up behind her lids, the memory of the other kiss, the feeling of Finan’s lips on hers, his mouth softly moving on hers, stirring a desire that left her helpless, desperate for his touch … a desire she tried to suppress ever since, tried to forget. Now she let herself remember, curled on a dirty floor in this filthy cottage, surrounded by brutal men who were lusting after her – as if the bittersweet memory of this kiss could comfort her. Somehow it did.  
Finan had kissed her deeply then, at least for some moments – before he regained his self-control and pushed her back. He had wanted her, she knew it, but not in the way she wanted him and now she wondered if it had been better they had not stopped but made love there and then. Would it hurt less being pushed away after humping? Certainly not. There would have been even more painful memories, of pleasure and tenderness - for she knew making love with him would have been full of pleasure… even if he didn’t feel the same way she felt for him. The memories would haunt her even more.  
So maybe you should be grateful for him pushing you back and searching his pleasures with some whores, shouldn’t you? She thought bitterly. Then the realization of herself dwelling in utter self-pity hit her and made her wipe frantically at the single tear that had slipped from her lids.  
Who was she to cry and lament to herself? She was a fighter, had been a fighter ever since her father had turned her over to the old libertine. He hadn’t broken her. Neither would Finan and neither would Haesten. She would fight her way out even if right now she had no idea how.  
She would fight.


	4. No easy way out

The next day brought more rain, more wind and more curses from Haesten’s part. Still they kept riding northward, riding hard, stopping only to eat some dried meat and hard bread that one of the men kept in his saddlebags.   
They passed some farms and hamlets, staying on a road that changed between ragged stones and mud, an old Roman road she guessed and therefore it would probably lead to a bigger village, a town even. She tried to remember a map of England she had once seen, trying to locate their position. If they continued northward, they would soon enough have to cross the river Thames, that she knew for sure. And crossing the Thames meant crossing the border to Mercia, her homeland.  
The thought raised her spirits a little. In her home country she would manage to escape and hide from Haesten more easily, at least she made herself believe this. Of course, she hadn’t traveled a lot through Mercia, not enough to claim to know the country well but she could certainly manage to find her way to Aegelsburgh or Oxenford or another town where she might find shelter and plan her next steps – wherever these steps would take her. Make another try to cross the sea to Frankia? Or try to make a living in Mercia, join the household of some thane or reeve?   
Join Uthred’s household in Coccham, a little nasty voice in her mind whispered. Then a bell rang. Coccham.  
Coccham was on the river Thames, at the Mercian border.   
Closer now than Aegelsburgh or Oxenford, much closer. She would run away and try to get to Coccham, to Uthred’s estate – no matter whether he was there or not. In Coccham there would be people who were sworn to Uthred, they would help her if she told them who she was. After all, she had saved Uthred’s life. They would help her and Haesten would not dare to attack her there.  
She closed her eyes for a moment and let out a small sigh, pleased to see a way in front of her, a way out.  
Haesten grabbed her harder from behind as if he could read her mind. He brought his mouth to her ear and whispered: “Tonight I will not back down, my lady. So don’t you think of playing tricks on me!”  
She stiffened and pressed her lips together firmly, not bothering to give an answer to his words.  
So it has to be tonight, she thought. I must escape tonight.

This time they didn’t look for shelter when the sun set. Eadith wondered why they kept on searching their way through the darkness, while the rain still fell and there was little light from the clouded sky – but it didn’t take long to find the answer. There were lights in a distance, lights they were heading to. A settlement, a town maybe. As they came nearer, Eadith caught a glimpse of something sparkling at the western end of the village, something reflecting the spare moonlight that made its way through the clouds. Water… a river most likely.  
The Thames?  
Eadith stretched her neck to see more but it was hard to tell. Yet it was no small river for the sparkling of the moonlight could be seen more and more while the lights came closer and soon the shadowy outlines of buildings appeared.  
A small town, as it turned out, yet big enough to hold an inn.   
Haesten must have known that because they headed directly there without asking somebody. They turned their tired horses over to a stable boy before entering the low building. The room was near empty and the few men sitting at their tables stared at them with a mixture of curiosity and fear. There were some whores, too, who approached the warriors warily, eyeing their silverrings as well as their swords and grim faces. When they realized, there was a woman among them, they gaped at her openly and Eadith pulled her cloak closer, trying to make herself vanish as much as possible.   
The innkeeper himself froze for a moment when the Danes stepped in, then his face turned into a broad smile, a little too broad to be genuine.  
“Haesten Storrisson,” he roared, “It’s been quite a while since you were here! Last thing I heard of was that you took Winchester, you and this warlord from Ireland – what’s his name?”  
Haesten snorted.  
“Stop your babbling, Alric, and serve us your strongest ale and something hot from that pisshole that you call your kitchen! We’ve come a long way and my men are tired and hungry!”   
“Sure, you will get the finest meal and the best ale, as always!” The innkeeper gave a sign to one of the whores who slipped through a back door hurriedly, certainly to instruct the kitchen maid of the new guests. Eadith noticed a smell of onions and roasted meat and felt her stomach growl.   
The innkeeper eyed her curiously.  
“And your lady will be hungry as well, I guess,” he said. “Or have you found yourself a new hostage?” The last words brought forth a curse and an angry growl from Haesten, although Eadith didn’t quite understand the reason for it.  
She still felt the scrutinizing look of the innkeeper and met his eye for a short moment. She knew at once there was no pity, no help to be expected – all she saw was greed and a lurking curiosity.  
He would treat the men with as much ale as possible and set his whores on them to get as much silver as they could.   
The women – there were five of them, Eadith noticed – had now overcome their anxiety and moved closer to the Danes, smiling, touching shoulders, bare arms, the shining silverrings… and Eadith could already see that the men were responding to them like moths drawn to the fire. A slender redhead had also approached Haesten and stroked his beard, catching him obviously off-guard. With a grunt he pushed her off and let himself fall onto a wooden bench, gesturing to Eadith to sit beside him.  
The man called Alric gave a short humourless laugh.  
“I see you brought your own whore, Haesten!” he remarked and nodded to the red-haired woman who looked sullen. “Go help in the kitchen, Eara, you’re not needed here.”   
Eadith had to swallow at the slight, but she kept her face blank. Her mind raced, taking in her surroundings and weighing her possibilities. No doubt, Haesten’s men would get their fill of mead and ale and seek their pleasure with the women all too soon, there was probably little Haesten could do about it. Maybe he didn’t even care … she was sure he planned to have his own pleasure – with her. As much as she resented it, she also realized it might be her chance: the other Danes drunk and busy with the whores and she alone with Haesten … and her hidden knife. 

She took off her wet cloak and shivered for a moment in her – also damp – gown. Haesten was aware of it and reached out to draw her closer.  
“Don’t worry, lady, I will keep you warm later …” he whispered in her ear. It made her shiver even more. She heard a hoarse laughter and noticed the innkeeper was approaching with two steaming bowls that he put down in front of them, while one of his ladies brought mugs of ale.   
“You’re not lucky with women, Haesten,” he teased and shrank back when Haesten grabbed his sleeve. The Dane stared at the man with gleaming eyes.  
“You better shut up and make sure your best chamber is prepared, Alric, or I rip your balls off and you won’t be lucky with women yourself!” he growled. It was a crude joke, but the man paled all the same.   
“It’ll be ready in a minute,” he assured and held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Enjoy your stew, folks!”  
Eadith had followed the exchange of words, still shivering by the thought of Haesten trying to rape her, but now the scent of the hot stew rose to her nose and made her almost faint.   
She grabbed the wooden spoon and started to eat hungrily, ignoring Haesten and the innkeeper, while her mind circled around her chances of escape.   
Actually she had no idea where exactly they were, but chances were that the river passing the village was the Thames and therefore the Mercian border. Chances were as well, Coccham was not too far, maybe she could reach it within a few hours ride – if she managed to steal a horse, which was not impossible, the stable being close by. Yet she had to find out where Coccham lay, supposedly eastward and on the Southern banks of the Thames.  
If it was the Thames.  
Too many unknowns.  
She burned her tongue on the hot sauce and bit back a curse.  
How could she find out – she could hardly ask her captors right away, could she not?  
“Where are you taking me?” She spoke to Haesten directly, looking him right in the eye.  
He chuckled.  
“Does that matter?”  
“You will not dare to travel through Mercia,” she mused. “It’s full of Saxons, full of Lady Aethelflaeds warriors… you would not go unharmed, dragging a hostage with you.”  
“You think these gutless bastards would challenge me?” Haesten sneered. “You know nothing of us – we are vikings, they’d wet their pants if they even saw us from afar!”   
Eadith ignored his bragging.  
“It’s Danelaw you’re heading for,” she declared. “There are still enough Danish warbands you could join. Enough warriors who won’t respect the peace made between King Edward and Sigtryggr. You could go on raiding and killing like before. “  
Haesten’s eyes gleamed.  
“You’re a clever one, Lady Eadith,” he said, making the “lady” sound like an insult. “I guessed that from the start. Why don’t you just stop struggling against me and join me instead? I can offer you more than Uthred and his band of bastards. I’ve got enough silver to treat you like a noblewoman … I could even make you my wife if it pleases me, for my own wife died not long ago ...”   
She stared at him with pure disgust, remembering his cruelty, remembering him hanging Uthred and his men upside down to suffer an excruciating death. How could he even dare to imagine she would be his companion … his wife! The mere thought of it made her sick.  
“I never will!” she spat. The expression on his face changed to something ugly, something cruel. He put his spoon down with a thud, emptied his mug and grabbed her arm, yelling towards Alric:  
“What about the chamber?”  
The man gestured towards the backwall, where a low door seemed to lead to another part of the house. Panic befell Eadith. She had not yet finished her plan, but she knew she’d have only one try. If that one didn’t work, she’d be lost.   
Her eyes flashed through the room, taking in the scene, the whores busying Haesten’s men, the three or four other guests who cowered in front of their cups, two of them obviously being monks with their heavy brown robes, an older one and a young one. The older monk threw a few coins on the table and made his way to the exit door, very quickly, while the young one followed somewhat reluctantly. His gaze met hers for a second and to her surprise there was something familiar about him, though she didn’t know why.   
Yet he couldn’t help her, that much was sure, and he hurried through the door before Haesten’s attention could be drawn to him.  
She was on her own – to fight or to be lost. Not that this was new to her.   
“I need to – go outside!” She tried to break free from Haesten’s grip.   
He gave a short laugh.  
“What for? Run and hide?”  
“I need to …” she drew a face and he understood.   
“You’re lying,” he said roughly.  
Now it was her who laughed.  
“Do you prefer me to wet myself while you …” She left the sentence unfinished, wondering if maybe he would prefer that. Some men got roused by the weirdest things. To her relief he looked disgusted.  
“Then go! Tjødr!” He looked around to find the man he had called for in a quite intimate position with a plump woman. Tjødr’s eyes looked glassy, having difficulties to focus on his Lord.  
The other men were not one bit better, and Haesten gave a scornful snort. He called to the red-haired woman who had joined the innkeeper at the bar.  
“Eara! You go outside with her and make sure that she just wants to piss – not to run. If you do it well, there is some silver in it for you. If not, I’ll cut your throat.”  
The woman wrinkled her nose.   
“Why should I help her anyway?” she replied, unfazed by his threat. “I don’t know her and I don’t care. She’s none of my kin, a snooty noblewoman as far as I see it.”  
She gestured to Eadith to follow her, taking her by the arm as roughly as Haesten had done before.  
Eadith didn’t resist, but when they were outside, she looked at the woman questioningly.  
“What is the name of this town?”  
Eara watched her disdainfully.  
“Why do you bother? You are their captive, you won’t escape them. If you try, you’ll be sorry – take my advice!”  
Eadith looked at her worn face, marked by hardships – noticed the scars and wondered if she had tried to escape her fate, too, some time before … and had failed. She saw the coldness in the woman’s eyes, knowing the was no hope for pity or compassion, this woman was far beyond that.  
No need to beg, no need to humiliate herself any further.  
“They will take me to Danelaw,” Eadith said bluntly. “I guess here is a ferry to cross the Thames, am I right? If we’re on the other side, we’ll be in Danish territory within a short time.”  
The woman snorted.  
“So it is,” she agreed coldly. “This town is called Readingum. It marks the border to Mercia. And yes, there is a ferry. A lot of travelers pass by, Danes as well as Saxons. It’s a busy place most of the time.” She frowned. “Do you have to piss or not? Did you just come to question me?”  
Eadith hurried to squat and to prove her need, the woman was suspicious enough. When she had finished, she glanced over to the sparkling surface that indeed was the river Thames. It was not far and neither would be the ferry. Every inn or tavern would be as close to a ferry as possible to attract more guests.  
She briefly toyed with the idea of overwhelming the woman and running, but let it fall. Haesten would be after her in a minute and drag her back. She needed more time to gain an advantage, otherwise she would have no chance. And she didn’t really want to hurt this woman let alone kill her.   
“Oh, I was mistaken,” she said casually. “I took this for Coccham first.”  
“Coccham?” Eara echoed with a grin. “Coccham is a half day’s ride to the east. You were pretty wrong.” She grabbed Eadith’s arm to pull her back in and she let her.   
Inside she saw that Haesten had risen from his seat and awaited her with a grim look on his face.  
Eara shove her towards him and stretched out her hand. He put two silvercoins in her palm, nodding contently, before he pushed Eadith to the side door.  
“Come back to me, if she doesn’t please you,” Eadith heard her yell, put off by the sneering tone of the whore’s voice. “I know how to give you a good ride!”  
Haesten gave a hoarse laugh before they entered the chamber Alric had assigned to them.  
It was a small room, dimly lit by a some candles on a small table beside some straw-filled mattresses serving as beds. There was a smell of sweat, ale and more unpleasant things Eadith didn’t want to guess at, but there were clean rugs on the floor and a jug with wine or ale beside the candles.  
Having scanned her surroundings quickly, Eadith felt a growing lump in her stomach. The moment had come and she mustn’t fail.  
Haesten stood close to her, his breath smelling of ale as he bent over to kiss her. She remembered the brutal kiss in the peasant’s shack and pressed her lips together, but it only made him laugh and harass her more. He was drunk but not drunk enough to be limited in his strength. She was both surprised and terrified by his force when he dragged her to the bed and threw her down. Within a heartbeat he was towering above her, pressing her down with his sheer weight, pulling up her skirts. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt in his desire to rape her, had thought he might play a little cat and mouse with her first – but now she was locked under his body, unable to move, even less reach her knife. She gasped for breath.  
“Wait – stop it - “   
He paused for a heartbeat, looking at her, panting.   
“It’s true – I’ve been Lord Aethelred’s whore,” she gasped, her voice almost failing her. “I had to … like I have to now, but there’s no need to fuck me like an animal - “ She prayed that her words still reached him in his lustful frenzy, fighting back the panic that threatened to rise inside her.  
It worked. He drew back a little, hesitating. She took the chance and propped herself up, fixing him with her eyes.   
“I’ve been a whore for a Mercian lord, do you think I will fail to be one for a Danish?”   
She saw that the meaning of her words dawned on him – a smile spread across his face. He moved away from her, never letting his gaze leave her, as she sat up straight, then turning her back on him, while she started nestling with her bodice. Her heart beat frantically in her breast, as she let her gown slide down from her shoulders, exposing her naked back to him. Her hand fumbled on her dress and she knew that for Haesten it would look like she went on undressing. Instead she clasped the handle of her knife. Her hand was slick from sweat and she could only hope that she would be able to hold the handle firmly. Hope that he would be as surprised as that nameless Danish warrior in the woods who just stared at her when she stabbed him.  
She waited, felt herself shake a little and hoped he would mistake it for fear.   
Then his calloused hand came and touched her bare shoulder, stroking her back. She heard him breathe heavily.  
Turned around.  
Raised her arm.  
Stabbed.  
He moved instinctively, and she knew she had failed even before the knife met his shoulder, hit his flesh, hit the bone.   
“You bitch!” She hadn’t expected him to move so quickly, punching her face so hard that she fell backward - and he lunged at her, nailing her down with his massive body while she struggled to free herself, her hands grabbing his hair, pulling firmly – but in vain.  
He will kill me, she thought in panic. He will kill me for that.  
She still struggled, getting weaker, smelling blood – his or hers, it was impossible to tell.  
Then – suddenly – her hand touched something beside her, something hard, something massive. The jug.  
How she managed to grab it and lift it – she couldn’t remember afterwards, but she raised it and smashed it onto his head with all the strength she had left. He gave a gurgling sound and loosened his grip, as he collapsed above her.  
Then it was silent, save for her heavy breath.


	5. Run for your life

Think, Eadith, think! There was no time to waste, she knew it and forced her panicked mind to calm down. Think quickly!  
Haesten didn’t move. She felt warm, sticky blood on her upper body and wondered if he was dead. Probably not. She had stabbed his shoulder, not his heart, and the hit with the jug had sent him into unconsciousness, no more.  
There was no sound from next door, no calls, no sign that somebody had become aware of the fight.  
The men were too drunk, the women too busy with them, maybe. If they had heard the noise, they might think Haesten had a rough time with her, raping her.   
Following a sudden inspiration she yelled: “No, no – you bastard – no – ahhh!” She managed to drop her voice to a whimper and sobbed: “Please – no – please …”  
Then she fell silent again, listening closely while her heart was hammering. Had she given possible eavesdroppers a good show, then? She hoped so. If yes, she was quite certain no one would dare to step in all too soon. They would never disturb Haesten if he had so much fun with raping her.  
She meant to hear a hoarse laughter and the squealing of a woman, but she wasn’t sure.  
Anyway, nobody entered the chamber.  
She managed to free herself from the burden of Haesten’s body, wiping the blood from her breast and her face with one of the rugs. Her face hurt awfully from the punch she had got and she wondered if he had broken her nose for she felt blood trickling down to her mouth. The metallic taste filled her mouth and she dabbed on her bloody lip with the rug before she quickly rearranged her clothes.   
She was calmer now, her mind working coolly. She felt for her knife, grabbed it and stared for a moment at the Dane before feeling his pulse. She was right – he wasn’t dead. Not yet. The thought of cutting his throat now, quick and simple, flashed through her mind but it filled her with dread. It was one thing to kill a man fighting … but it seemed impossible to slaughter an unconscious and defenseless man. She knew it might be a fault yet she couldn’t be a cold-blooded killer. Instead she bent over the lifeless body and cut Haesten’s small leather pouch from his belt. It felt heavy and she would need as much silver as she could get to reach Coccham.   
A quick look around showed her, there was a small window, the shutters left ajar … her way out! She spotted her cloak on the floor, a wet bundle but she was glad she had brought it with her in the chamber. Its dark color would help her to go unnoticed in the night.   
Slipping through the window was easier than she had expected. She lowered herself slowly to the ground and paused for a moment to let her eyes accustom to the darkness. No one seemed to be near but she heard moans and grunts from a few bushes besides the building and guessed one of the warriors was busy humping one of the whores. It sounded like he would still need a while to reach his peak and so give her some more time to escape. If hopefully Haesten didn’t regain consciousness too quickly.  
She looked over to the Thames and made a decision.   
Pulling her cloak around her body and covering her head with the hood she scurried to the stable. When she slipped inside, still adjusting her eyes to the dim-lit surroundings she tripped over something bulky and almost gave a shocked cry. Then she realized it was the stable boy, sleeping on a pile of straw beside the door. He was startled as well, rubbing his eyes but she quickly put a hand over his mouth to prevent him from calling.  
“I won’t harm you,” she whispered. “so be quiet! I have a job for you and you can earn yourself some silver, if you are clever!”  
The boy squinted and nodded, eyeing her tautly. She was grateful for the darkness that prevented him from seeing her battered face and the blood on her dress.  
“The horses of the Danes – you lead them away from the stable and set them free somewhere outside the town, as discreetly as possible. Can you do that?”  
His eyes widened.  
“They will think I stole them!” he stammered.  
“No. You will be gone. Hide yourself. They will suspect it was me who stole them. Don’t worry! The Danes are deep in their cups right now! Just drive the horses away – it’s no difficult task!” she urged, fumbling in her poach for some coins. When she put the silver in the boy’s hand, he made up his mind and nodded. He got on his feet and moved over to the horses, holding the coins tightly in his hand.  
Eadith looked around quickly. She counted four horses, no more. What would the Danes do once they found out she was gone? Would they try to find her – chase her? It probably depended on Haesten’s condition. How badly he was wounded she could not guess. She doubted his men would go after her on their own … and they were drunk, moreover. Yet if Haesten wasn’t hurt too badly, it might be that he grew wild like a raging bull, wanting to hunt her down.   
The loss of their horses would hinder them, of course. Eadith didn’t doubt that they would find new horses within some time, buying or stealing them … but it would cost precious time.   
And then – where would they look for her? Would they assume that she had crossed the river by ferry (if the ferryman made the passage in the darkness anyway)? Or would they guess she was already riding … where to? They probably knew that Coccham wasn’t far.   
The stable boy had already tied ropes around the necks of the horses and started to lead them outside. He worked quickly, almost soundlessly except for a soft, soothing whisper to calm the horses.  
Eadith made up her mind.  
“Just the three of them,” she said in a low voice, stopping him in midstride. “I need the last one for myself.”  
She could see his nod in the dim light. He handed her the rope of the last horse and gestured to a corner.  
“Saddle and bridle are over there, in the corner. You’ll need it, Lady,” he whispered and for a moment she looked into his eyes wondering how old he might be. Almost a kid, still. She hoped he would succeed, hoped the Danes wouldn‘t get a hold on him. She didn’t want to be responsible for him being tortured or killed by Haesten.  
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Hurry up now – and be careful!”   
The last horse was a grey mare, not Haesten’s big black stallion she had sat upon the days past, and she was thankful for that. She was an experienced rider but this was not the time to deal with a maybe unruly horse. The mare moved and stomped a little, when she held her back, being desperate to follow the others. Eadith managed to soothe her quickly, stroking her soft nostrils and making shushing sounds.   
How much time still left? she wondered, while she rummaged with flying fingers through the pile of bridles and saddles in the dark corner. How much time?   
The mare snorted and nudged her lightly with the muzzle as if encouraging her to speed up. She fixed the bridle, then the saddle belt. It was difficult in the darkness but not as much as she had feared.   
She took the reins and lead the horse outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. As she looked over to the tavern, it seemed still quiet, a dim light falling out of the window she had slipped through. She cursed herself for forgetting to extinguish the candle, it would have hindered anyone who entered to spot Haesten’s body at first sight – but there was no use dwelling upon it.   
She swung herself into the saddle and let her horse walk at a pace, not wanting to cause more sound than necessary. Unfortunately she hadn’t had the chance to see much of the village upon their arrival, so she could only orientate herself by the course of the river. If she followed the river, she would get to Coccham sooner or later. A half day’s ride, the woman had said. It didn’t sound like much but Eadith knew that was a deception. A ride at night was not to be compared with a ride at daylight and given the fact, that she didn’t even know where the road was, it would certainly take her much longer.   
She sped the mare up a little when they had reached the outer linings of the village, wondering if she should simply ride cross-country or try to find the road in the darkness, even if it cost her time.  
Then, suddenly, she realized two things.  
The rain had stopped.  
And there were shouts from the village.


	6. Of witches and spectres

Cross country was no option, at least not if she wanted to ride fast. Eadith found that out all too soon. The area near the river was marshy and she turned her horse inland because she feared to sink in. Yet the ground was uneven and stony, full of holes, bushes and scrub, making the poor horse stumble time and again.  
Cold fear crept up her spine while she turned nervously in the saddle to check upon her pursuers. She couldn’t tell for sure if the lights moved away from the village, meaning that they were on her trail. It depended on the horses, of course, and on Haesten’s condition, too. Maybe he wasn’t hurt too badly or maybe he was but had ordered his men to search for her and drag her back.  
Eadith had to resist the urge to spur her horse, to try to bring more distance between her and the village. She knew the risk that the mare tripped and fell or broke a leg was too big. If that happened, she would be lost.  
So she let the horse trot while she regarded the area that lay ahead. There were the outlines of a forest not too far and she decided to head towards it. If she reached the forest’s edge, she could disappear in its darkness and wait out what happened.  
Yet it seemed to take an eternity to reach the forest, an eternity that made her heart beat like crazy while cold sweat started to trickle down her back. Her head had begun to ache violently and a disturbing dizziness started to get a hold on her. She forced herself to breathe more deeply and to concentrate on the trail ahead.  
I mustn’t faint, she told herself again and agin. I mustn’t. I will escape. I will make it to Coccham.  
Then, finally, she was there. Tall trees towered above her, utter blackness awaiting her beneath them. She shuddered, remembering scary stories she had been told as a child, stories of elves and witches and wolves and bears and whatever might lurk in the spooky forest.  
Eadith turned around again and looked back to the village. If they were still out there, looking for her ... had they already spotted her and the horse? Or had the darkness protected her so far?  
Anyway, there was no use in dwelling upon ghosts and feral animals … the most dangerous thing were the Danes.  
Or so she thought... 

To hide in the dark forest seemed to be easy, if it were only for her. But she had a horse and she couldn’t just leave it somewhere. She had to lead it through undergrowth and bushes full of vicious thorns and it seemed to be as scared of the dark forest as she was, bracing itself again the pull of the reins.  
Eadith had to speak soothingly again and again until she managed to bring the nervous animal to a more hidden space. She didn’t want to walk too far into the forest for fear of getting lost as well as of not being able to observe possible pursuers. So she stopped when she had reached a small hidden dip surrounded by young trees where she could tie the horse. She cowered in the hollow and wrapped herself tighter in her cloak. At least it offered some shelter from the wet underground, yet she shivered – if it was from the cold or her fear she couldn’t tell.  
While she sat and waited, the spooky sounds of the nightly forest closed her in, the cry of an owl, hunting in the dark … the shriek of some small animal being caught … being killed?  
Poor thing, she thought. Like me … hidden in the dark, hoping to be overlooked, but caught nevertheless. At least I can fight, if they find me.  
She felt for the knife, remembering the moment when she had stabbed Haesten. When she had failed to kill him. In a way it was a relief that she hadn’t accomplished the kill.  
She remembered how she had felt after she killed the man in the wood weeks ago, the sick feeling, the revolting stomach, the blood on her hands and the stare of his dying eyes, fixing her, following her through her dreams more than once. She remembered that she scrubbed her bloody hands in the first small stream they reached during their run to Winchester.  
And she remembered the inscrutable look on Finan’s face while he was watching her doing it. He was a warrior, he had killed so many men it was impossible to count.  
Did he know the feelings that were haunting her? Did he remember what it had been like to kill for the first time? She had wondered then but she couldn’t tell. They had never talked about it.  
Now, cradling herself in the hidden spot like a frightened hare, she allowed her thoughts to drift back to the days she had spent with Finan and the other men.  
Despite the dangerous situation they had faced, she could hardly remember a time when she had been so at ease. The men had treated her like a friend, not like a lady and certainly not like an object to be used … their joking and jesting made her laugh easily and she felt like she was opening up to them more and more.  
She had never been good with children but that changed in a mysterious way when she had to look after Aelfwynn and Aethelstan. Both had been shy, almost timid, at the beginning, but then they searched her closeness, sleeping next to her, holding her hand while they walked … it had touched her deep inside, reached that hidden soft core she had almost forgotten during her cold and hard adult life.  
That was why she had stepped up for them when they had been circled by her brother and his men … that was why she decided to expose Eardwulf’s deed, the murder of Aethelred, and destroy his status as commander of the household guard. It had been a hard decision to make and when she saw him dying at the sword of Sigtryggr’s man she had wondered if it had been her turning against him that led to this cruel fate. But then she remembered all the times he had used her, offended her, even beat her. His ambition had driven him too far and she knew he would have sacrificed her easily on his way back to power.  
Still it hurt. There had been a time when they were very close, Eardwulf and Eadith.  
During their childhood they had spent much time together, after their mother had died giving birth to their little brother (who hadn’t survived his first year either). So the two of them had been the only living children of an ealdorman who once had wealth and influence in Mercia – and finally lost it all, dying on the sword for being a conspirator. A supposed conspirator. If the accusations were true the children didn’t know then – and even now, Eadith sometimes wondered if it had been the truth or a deadly intrigue.  
Anyway their life had changed completely, and it turned out that Eardwulf grew obsessed with the desire to make amends. His whole life radiated around that desire and she had let him drag her into it. She had always adored her big brother and would have done everything for him … at least for a long, long time. Until he introduced her to Aethelred and urged her to let him bed her. She had braced herself against this demand as long as possible, out of shame and out of simple dislike of the man himself. But Eardwulf didn‘t keep from pressing her, reminding her of the time when she had bedded the disgusting old man who should support her father. He told her that Aethelred was at least young and pleasant looking and that she should be far beyond such concerns.  
She shivered when she remembered that night in the king’s bed. She had felt not only bruised and misused afterwards but also dishonored. Yet Eardwulf had just laughed at her and said her honor was long gone, so why bother! As it turned out, it was himself who finally died dishonored and humiliated.  
I’m not responsible for his death, she reminded herself. Eardwulf lost his dignity and his honor solely through his own behavior.  
It made her sad nevertheless. She had tried to talk him into going to Frankia with her but he had been unwilling, desperately clinging to his ambitious goals.  
No, it had not been her fault.

The horse snorted, moving nervously. She jumped at the sound that pierced through her somber thoughts, realizing that she had been too immersed in her memories.  
She was no longer alone. She knew it from the mare’s unease, from the sounds of the forest that had stopped all at once, from the shiver running down her spine.  
Was it a wild animal, a bear or a wolf … or a human being? Her hand clenched around the knife’s handle while she tried to make out something in the darkness.  
Then there was a cough and a hoarse laugh from between the slender trunks of the birches right across from her and she could suddenly see them: two dark figures, emerging from the undergrowth.  
So they had found her, Haesten and his men. It was all in vain.  
“Look at this, Eadgar, “ the hoarse voice said, startling her. “A horse and ..." He came a little closer, so Eadith could see shaggy hair and a brute face under a dark hood. “ … a woman!”  
The words brought forward a chuckle from the second man who also approached her. Both were clad in ragged clothes, looked filthy and scruffy. The bigger one held an axe in his hand, the other had a long knife hanging from his belt.  
Now it dawned on Eadith.  
These were no Danes. She let out a sharp breath she hadn’t known she had held back.  
These were common Saxon muggers.  
She almost laughed out loud, a bitter laugh. So she had knocked Haesten out, stole a horse, run for cover … only to bump into dirty bastards such as these two. It must have been a cruel joke of fate.  
I will not take that, she thought as a hot flame of rage flared up within her. I simply will not.  
She spoke loudly and without hesitation, her voice sharp and clear:  
“If you dare touch me or the horse, I will kill you.”  
The men stopped midstride and looked at each other, startled by her boldness.  
She stood tall now, the first shock was gone and every bit of fear had been blown away by this all-consuming rage … rage at the outlaws, rage at her fate … she was far beyond fear and anxiety now.  
“So leave now and you will keep your life. If not – you will be dead, I promise.”  
But the men had recovered from their first stupor and broke into a harsh laughter.  
“Uhhh, listen to that, “ said the one with the axe. “What a naughty bitch! Listen, you slut – we will take your horse and we will - “  
Eadith didn’t hear him out. She knew what was to come and she was quicker, catching the man unprepared while he was talking. He had never expected her to make the first move and when she thrust the hand with the knife forward, she drove it right into his belly.  
He gave a gurgling sound and folded together, pressing his hand on the wound, while Eadith whirled to face the second one who stared at her in blank horror. She hadn’t let go of the knife and now she lunged forward, jerking the blade upwards, and the knife hit once again, ripping his side. Not a fatal wound but it was enough to make the man scream in shock and pain.  
Eadith lashed out for a second thrust but he turned away and ran off into the darkness, howling and cursing.  
So it was over.  
Eadith paused, panting, her arm aching from the violent thrusts. The rage ebbed as quickly as it had come and made room for a feeling of nausea. The blood seemed to drain from her body and her legs started to shake uncontrollably. She had to reach out for the trunk of the nearest tree to keep herself from faltering.  
Beside her the man with the slashed belly was writhing in pain, whimpering and pressing both hands to his wound, while dark blood gushed out.  
She knew he would die. Gut wounds meant a cruel death, she had seen enough of them. For a brief moment she wondered if she should take her knife and cut his throat just to end this, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.  
She felt too sick.  
So she simply turned and staggered to the horse, leaning against the warm animal’s body. The horse was trembling as much as she was and she stroked it absently.  
“We cannot stay here,” she murmured, to the mare and to herself. “We have to leave...”  
She untied the reins with shaky fingers and pulled the horse with her through the thicket. This time it followed obediently and they made their way through the darkness, leaving the dying man behind.


	7. Healing hands

When dawn finally came, Eadith was completely lost.  
In her desperate hurry to leave the scene of the assault she had headed in the opposite direction of the wounded man’s way. She had no idea if the two outlaws had been on their own or if there might be a bigger band somewhere. In case of the latter she might be in great danger.  
So she wandered about disoriented, pulling the horse with her until she finally dropped down on a moss-covered, halfway dry spot, exhausted and frightened and too tired to move on. There she spent the last hours of the night, drifting in and out from sleep, drifting in and out from mazy dreams.  
The deadly wounded man haunted her then, his whimpering following her, his bloody hands trying to get hold of her until she woke from her own muffled cry. Cold sweat made her shiver and the hurt from her bruised face had grown worse.  
Yet she saw a faint shimmer of dawn between the tree-tops and she knew it was time to move on, no matter how tired and hurt she was.  
She remembered that Coccham lay to the East and therefore headed in the direction where the faint light had appeared. As it grew lighter, she dared to mount her horse and steer it through the woods at a quicker pace. When finally a soft pink glow was tainting the sky, she reached the forest’s edge and saw a large meadow spreading in front of her. She reined the horse in and wondered what to do. Could she risk to leave the protection of the forest and ride out into the open ground?   
She had few options anyway. She would only lose precious time if she kept wandering around in the forest. So she moved on, taut as a bowstring, checking the area for possible attackers but all she finally saw was a flock of goats accompanied by a child, crossing the meadow.  
The child stopped when she saw her approaching and stared at her open-mouthed. It was a girl of maybe ten years, poorly dressed and barefoot. Eadith realized how she must look in the child’s eyes: a strange woman, wrapped in a dark cloak, disheveled, probably bloodstained, with the marks of Haesten’s fist in her face. She wouldn’t have been surprised when the girl had turned on her heels and run away screaming. But the little one stood still, unmoving, staring.  
So Eadith held up her hands to show she meant no harm and tried to sound cheerfully when she said: “Good morning, lass! Don’t be afraid – I just need your help!”  
The girl tilted her head but remained quiet.  
What can this kid tell me anyway? Eadith wondered briefly. With a little luck the way back to her farm or her home-village – nothing else.  
Nevertheless she let her horse move on and stopped close to the child.  
“I have lost my way,” she said softly. “I am traveling to Coccham. Do you know where it is?”   
It was a try, and actually she was not surprised in the least when she saw the girl shake her head.  
“Dunno…,” the child said with a small voice, frowning. “But … I can take you to Granny, she knows – maybe …” A shy smile crept onto her round face and she stretched out her arm to point somewhere across the meadow. “Do you wanna come, Lady? It ain’t far…”  
For a second Eadith found herself wondering if it might be a trap – then she rebuked herself for being so timid. Dear God, this was a small child, offering to take her to her grandmother!   
However, she felt herself torn. Wouldn't it be better if she moved on as quickly as she could, trying to find the way alone? Would this old woman be of any help at all? She hesitated while the girl looked at her expectantly.  
Yet, if she kept roaming around, having no idea where the road to Coccham was, it wouldn't do any good either.  
So she nodded and gave the girl an encouraging smile.  
"Will you show me the way, then? If you want, you can ride with me on my horse..."  
The child's face beamed with excitement. Eadith stretched out her hand and pulled the girl up, to place her in front of her. She ignored the painful stretch of her muscles and focused on the direction her little companion showed her.  
Briefly the thought occurred to her what might happen if Haesten and his men spotted her in this very moment ... but she pushed it away, hoping the girl was right when she said it wasn't far.

Eadith had assumed the girl was taking her to some village but as it turned out it was just a single cottage, close to the forest's edge, ducking under the shadow of the tall trees. The small house looked poor but not as run-down as the shack where she had found shelter with the Danes.  
As they approached, a woman's figure appeared in the door frame, watching them cautiously. Before Eadith could say a word, the girl slid from the horseback and ran towards the woman.  
"Granny, look who's here!"  
The woman didn't speak. She silenced the child by putting a hand on his head, waiting for Eadith to dismount.   
"I don't mean to disturb you," Eadith said gently. "Your granddaughter offered to bring me here ... I need your help ..." She felt the scrutinizing look of the old woman and was uncertain what to say. She knew she looked like a tramp at best - like a thief or outlaw at worst, with her beaten face and her blood-stained clothes, so she felt self-conscious and wondered if the woman would chase her away without hearing her out.  
Therefore she was surprised when the woman finally said: "You should rest, Lady. Please come in, if you don't mind our humble home."  
Eadith was at a loss of words, never had she expected to be adressed so formally, considering her outward appearance. So she just nodded and entered the cottage. Inside her first impression was confirmed: it was simple, the furniture consisting of a wooden table and two stools, a fireplace where some kind of broth was simmering in an iron pot and straw pallets for beds, as it was common among the poor people. Yet the floor was covered with clean rushes and everything seemed neatly in place. But the first thing that struck Eadith was the smell.   
The smell of smoke and broth was overlaid by the fragrance of herbs, coming from countless bundles of dried plants which hung from the low roof ... sage, chamomile, lavender, rosemary and many others Eadith couldn't name.  
This woman was a healer.  
Eadith turned to look at her and saw the woman smile at her surprise. She nodded slightly, then leaned to the child.  
"Go fetch some water from the stream, Aelina. Hurry up!"  
The little one obeyed at once, taking a bucket with her, and slipped outside, while the woman directed her gaze back to Eadith. She stretched out a hand to touch Eadith's jaw and turn her head to both sides, and Eadith didn't object.  
"Are you running from the man who did that to you?" the woman asked earnestly.  
Eadith could only nod, silently.  
The healer tilted her head, reminding Eadith so much of her granddaughter that she had to suppress a smile. But the next words came sharply, while the woman eyed her scrutinously.  
"Is that your blood or his?"  
Eadith hesitated briefly. Did this woman think she was a murderer? What could she possibly tell her - the truth?  
Then she answered honestly.  
"Mostly his, I guess..."  
The expression in the healer's eyes didn't change. So that was what she had expected anyway. She touched Eadith's shoulder lightly, ushering her to a stool.  
"Sit down, then. My name is Theda. I will tend to your wounds and don't worry, I won't judge you even if it is your husband you killed. I've seen enough women who suffered similar misuse like you did."  
"It wasn't my husband," Eadith felt compelled to put it right. "and I didn't kill him." At least not him. The memory of the man with the gut wound came back again and caused her to shiver.  
Little Aelina rushing in with a bucket full of water tore her out of her dark thoughts.   
"I thank you for your offer," she said to Theda, straightening. "but I'm afraid I can't stay. I think these men are already searching for me, and I don't want to put you all at risk. I just wanted to ask you if you can show me the way to Coccham..."  
The old woman shook her head, smiling thinly.  
"Calm down, Lady. This cottage is hard to find and even if they did, we could hide you easily, don't worry. You will take your rest and eat and after that I will tell you how to get to Coccham." She tilted her head in a way that was almost familiar to Eadith by now. "So you want to seek out the Lord Uthred, do you?"  
Eadith was stunned.  
"So you know him?" she blurted out without thinking.  
Theda nodded earnestly.  
"He is a good man," she said simply. "Some complain that he is a heathen, but I don't mind. The same people also complain that I am a kind of witch." A smile was twinkling in her eyes as if she were daring Eadith.  
"You're not, Granny!" Aelina called out indignantly. "You're no witch!"  
"I don't believe in witches," Eadith said and smiled at the little girl. "But I can recognize a healer if I meet one." She let her smile wander to Theda. "And I am truly hungry and tired. So I appreciate your offer."

How strange it was to be tended to, Eadith mused while Theda cleansed her face softly with a rag soaked with water, washing blood and dirt from her skin. Eadith had taken off her filthy and soiled dress and changed into a clean if coarse linen dress that little Aelina brought for her. Theda wanted to turn down Eadith's offer of silver coins, but the younger woman insisted.  
"It's the least I can do to thank you for your kindness," she said. "Besides taking you into my prayers, that is, of course."  
So Theda smiled and nodded at last, putting the coins into a small pouch she wore on her belt.   
Now she was treating Eadith's bruises with a good-smelling salve, her soft and skillful touch feeling like a caress a mother would give to her child. Eadith closed her eyes and allowed herself to dwell in this feeling of pleasure, if it was only for a short time.  
Aelina who had eyed her admiringly throughout the whole procedure had been sent out to tend to the horse, and now Theda put a comforting hand on Eadith's shoulder, causing her to open her eyes and meet the elder woman's gaze.  
"Are there any other bruises you want me to take care of?"   
From the sympathetic expression in her eyes Eadith knew what she meant. She shook her head vigorously.  
"No, I wasn't raped," she replied. "I could knock him out and run away."  
The woman furrowed her brow.  
"And stab him?" she guessed with a sideways glance to Eadith's knife which lay on the table. The bloodstains were still to be seen.  
Not only him, Eadith thought with a shiver. She nodded and stared into Theda's face.  
"Why does it have to be this way, Theda?" The words blurted out of her mouth before she could swallow them down. "Why do men force us under their will - again and again? Why do they treat us like this?"  
The old woman's face softened. She rubbed the rest of the salve into Eadith's skin before she replied: "It's the power, lass. They have to prove to themselves that they have power over us. But the truth is that we scare them. The truth is that we women hold the greatest power on earth. For we give birth, we give life - whereas a man can only take lives. That's why they fear us. It is the way of the world."  
Eadith stared at her open-mouthed while the wisdom of the healer's words sank into her mind. We hold the greatest power on earth...  
It might be true. It most certainly was true. Yet it did little to improve the life of a woman in a world where men ruled and fought and oppressed them with brute force. In a world that seemed to lack empathy and kindness where even the church regarded women as sinful and evil. In a men's world.  
She let out a disheartened sigh.   
But Theda smiled and padded her hand comfortingly.  
"You have proven that you are a tough woman, Lady," she said earnestly, addressing her formally again. "You escaped the man who wanted to misuse you and you will find your way to Coccham, I'm sure. I can see strength and courage in you, something that too many women are lacking. But you have it."  
Eadith swallowed.  
"The spirit of a true warrior...", she murmured absently.  
The healer raised a brow, and Eadith felt her cheeks flush.  
"Someone said that to me," she explained. " A ... friend ..." She wondered why she felt the need to explain. It was the look in the old woman's eyes, so intense that Eadith almost believed she could look deep inside her soul.  
"Someone who cares for you."  
"I ... don't know."  
"And you care for him." It was not a guess. It was a statement.  
Eadith opened her mouth to say "I don't know" again, but then she just shut it again and gave a nod.  
"A good man, then," she heard Theda's soft voice. "You will return to him."  
The old woman still held her hand and while they were looking at each other, Eadith suddenly understood why people believed this woman to be a witch. Maybe there was something to the rumour after all.


	8. The hunt is over

When Eadith left the healer's cottage, the morning sun had already dissolved the clouds of mist. Rain and wind had finally stopped and the sun brought more warmth. It seemed to be a beautiful autumn day.  
The prospect did not really cheer her up.  
She would have preferred the rain to go on for she was afraid that her tracks could be followed all too easily. But it could not be helped anyway.  
Theda and she had talked at length about the best route to Coccham without being traced. It was difficult to make plans while she had no knowledge about Haesten's condition. So it probably was wisest to assume the worst, which meant that Haesten and his men were still out there, trying to find her, to get a hold of her ... to take revenge for her attack.  
Theda worried that they were watching the road from Readingum to Coccham, hidden somewhere between trees and bushes to strike as soon as they spotted her. So the healer had advised her to avoid this road and to better make a detour than to head to Coccham directly. It would cost her some time but chances were she could reach Uthred's estate before sunset.  
The old woman had also offered Eadith to spend at least one night in her house, to rest and sleep before moving on - she argued that the pursuers would think her vanished and gone and maybe give up their search.  
But Eadith worried too much about the safety of the old woman and the girl, the thought of being the reason that these two were attacked by the Danes was unbearable to her. So she had turned the offer down, as tempting as it had been.  
Now she was on horseback again, her mare fed and rested, and she felt better than she had felt in days. Her jaw and nose still hurt but not as badly as before, the salve seemed to work miraculously.  
Theda had supplied her with bread, apples and cheese, stored in a linen sack together with a blanket and an ointment jar. She had even given her a small saex Eadith had fixed on her saddle, while her knife was tied to her belt. So Eadith was well-equipped, much better than before, but her tension was unchanged, a foreboding of danger weighing down her mind.  
She rode fast, trying to keep her thoughts on the description Theda had given her: to follow the small stream, turn north when the first village came into sight.. Occasionally Eadith saw people working in the fields, bringing in the harvest, loading charts drawn by horses or oxens but she hoped not to be noticed.  
She had decided it was the best not to pass through a village, in case her pursuers would roam around asking if somebody had seen her. Everybody would remember a young woman, traveling alone - it was all too uncommon a sight. So she tried to move through wooded stretches of land where she was sheltered from sight but all too soon the land grew more open and trees were scarse.  
Eadith felt her tension grow as well and couldn't keep from looking around warily. The landscape was hilly now, making it difficult to see far ahead, and every time Eadith reached a hillcrest, she stopped to scan her surroundings, both hoping to see the outlines of Coccham on the horizon and fearing to spot possible enemies.  
It was well after midday when she saw the riders coming towards her.  
There were two of them and it was impossible to tell who they were, Danes or Saxons. Friend or foe.  
Eadith reined in her horse and hesitated. As much as she strained her eyes, the outcome was the same. She had no idea if the riders represented danger or not.  
While she stretched in the saddle and squinted her eyes, suddenly the realization struck her that these two most likely had seen her as well. She was on top of a grassy hill, her figure standing out of the plain like a single tree on a meadow.  
She looked around hastily but there was no shelter close by, just a stretch of wood about half a mile to the West. Fear crept up her spine and made her shiver despite the afternoon sun.  
Don't panic, she told herself while she padded the mare's neck absently. Chances were these two were only harmless travellers.  
However, she couldn't bet on chances. Luck hadn't been on her side all too often during the last time.  
So she spurred her horse and chased down the slope. 

She knew she had to ride hard and that's what she did then, kicking her horse, while she ducked on its neck, encouraging it even more with small cheering shouts. The hood of her cloak had been blown from her head, her braids fluttering in the wind. Everybody watching her would easily identify her as a woman but that could not be changed. She could only hope ... and be quick.  
She was nearing the woods when she heard the shouts, making her turn her head and watch in horror as the riders came charging down the hill, trying to cut her way. So her worst fears were confirmed. These were her enemies.  
She let out a cry of frustration while she spurred her mare again. The poor horse, sensing the panic of its rider, shot towards the trees like an arrow released.  
The Danes yelled in excitement as they followed: There was nothing like a good hunt!  
Eadith heard the drumming of the hooves behind her, the snorting and panting of her own horse, the blood rushing in her ears ... the sounds mingled in her head, a cacophony of horror, making her feel dizzy. Then they reached the woods, breaking through the undergrowth. Twigs whipped her face, blackberry vines clawed her arms and legs, yet she didn't feel the pain, all her senses focused on one thing only: Escape!  
And then, all at once the hunt was over.  
Eadith's horse stumbled - tripping over a log or a hole in the ground - his forelegs buckling, and it went down with a shriek whinny. Eadith had no chance to keep from falling.  
The momentum hurled her over the neck of the horse and she landed heavily on the ground. The impact took her breath, her vision blurring before her eyes - she could make no sound, not even cry out or moan at the pain.  
She just lay there, numb and breathless, eyes closed - unable to move while she heard the rustling and stomping of horses, the rough voices of the Danes, the quick footsteps closing in. She was too dazed to even reach for her knife.  
"If the bitch is dead, he will rip our balls off," a hoarse voice said, and then rough hands grabbed for her, shaking her until she groaned softly.  
The sound brought a laughter from her captor.  
"She's alive, don't worry, Stig," the man chuckled. He was so close she could smell his bad breath, but she refrained from opening her eyes. The realization of being captured again drained all strength from her and she almost hoped she could drift into unconsciusness again.  
It had all been in vain. They had caught her again and would drag her back to Haesten and God only knew what he would do to her in his wrath.  
"So let's take her back to Haesten," the man called Stig said. "What are you waiting for?"  
The other man grunted.  
"Not yet," he drawled and his tone made Eadith shiver as she realized what was to come next. So she was not surprised when she felt calloused hands working on her dress, touching her thighs. The feeling snapped her out of her daze and made her kick at him. When she opened her eyes, she saw the scarred and bearded face of a red-haired man close to her.  
She remembered this man, strangely enough she even remembered his name: Tjodr.  
He was laughing at her futile attempts to fight him, and she saw he had ripped her knife from the belt, contemplating it.  
"So that's the knife you stabbed Haesten with," he grinned. "Won't be of any use now, bitch!"  
The second man had come closer, too, and stared greedily at her bare thighs.  
"Remember what Haesten said," Tjodr growled. "The first one to catch her can hump her."  
He pushed his rough hand between her thighs as if to confirm it but Eadith twisted and clawed at his face, her fingernails leaving a bloody mark on his cheek.  
"You bastard, don't you touch me!" She hissed. She had nothing to lose now and when he grabbed for her throat, she managed to bite his hand as hard as she could.  
"Damn bitch!" he howled, but then he was on top of her and pressed her down with his body, his hand on her throat again, choking her, nailing her to the ground while he fumbled to untie his breeches.  
Eadith felt her breath gone, her resistance weakened while she struggled for air.  
She heard the other man laugh.  
"Don't be too rough with the slut, Tjodr," he warned. "I'll take my turn with her afterwards, too, and remember Haesten will - "  
"Ah, shut up now," Tjodr loosened his grip a bit nevertheless, while he urged his body between her legs, having finally undone his breeches. Eadith was choking, gasping for air when she felt his cock pushing against her.  
All of a sudden the memory of the men who had abused her before came back with full force, crashing down on her like a huge wave of pain and humiliation, leaving her limp and helpless under the brutal force of the assault. She could not fight anymore, her strength fading away and so she did what she had done as a lass of fifteen in the ealdorman's bed ... she turned her eyes to the sky and let her spirit retreat from her pained body, imagined it soaring up into the air like a bird, far away from misuse and cruelty and disgust. They could take possession of her body but it was no more than an empty shell, while her soul would be unharmed.  
She focused on a piece of sky she could glimpse between the tree tops, trying to block out the pain and the grunts and groans of the man on top of her.  
But then - suddenly - it stopped.  
The man jerked awkwardly, giving a gurgling sound, while a gush of blood spilled out of his mouth and he collapsed above her.  
That was when Eadith started to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard one (for me AND for Eadith) ... but don't worry, rescue is near - FINALLY! However, it's not gonna be that easy for Eadith even then...


	9. Broken wings

Suddenly the limp body of the man was pulled away from her, and she could get free, crawling away from the bloody corpse in utter panic. Her breath came in gasps, her throat still hurting from the man's brutal grip. While she rang for breath and blinked tears from her eyes, tears of pain and horror, she was tugging frantically at her dress, trying to pull it back in place, trying to cover her naked thighs. Her mind was in a hopeless turmoil, she could not get hold of what was going on .  
The tears blurring her vision made it even worse, but then she made out the lifeless bodies of the two Danes, lying in a pool of blood on the ground. A man squatted beside the corpses, looking at her wide-eyed.  
"Eadith - Eadith - it's me!" The voice had a familiar sound, an Irish brogue that slowly made its way through the foggyness in her head. "It's me," he said again, intently, "It's me, Finan!"  
She stopped tugging at her dress and raised her head, looking into the face that had followed her so often in her dreams.  
Finan.  
She let out a shaky breath. It can't be. I am in shock.  
Yet there he was, crouching in front of her, his arms outstretched to reach her.  
He had come for her.  
Her vision blurred even more and she knew she was going to faint.  
"Eadith!"  
Finan saw it as well and in a heartbeat he was beside her, steadying her with his arm. His closeness came as a shock to her, his touch, the support of his solid body, the concern in his brown eyes. She felt herself shaking uncontrollably, unable to say a word save for a soft whimpering, and he pulled her closer, pressing her against his leather-clad chest with a desperate need, while he was murmuring her name.  
The pressure set off a surge of panic and made her brace herself against him instinctively. For a second he wouldn't let her go, confused, but when she struggled, panting heavily, he released her and backed off.  
"It's okay, Eadith - I'm sorry - it's okay!"  
He held up his hands placatingly, showing that he wasn't going to touch her again - not against her will. There was a pained look on his face and Eadith - despite her frenzy - knew she was the reason for it. But she couldn't help it. Her body seemed to be in a state of shock, no longer obeying her. So she embraced herself, trying to suppress the shivering, turning her gaze to the ground so that she had to see the pained expression on Finan's face no longer.  
Finan remained silent, he seemed at a loss.  
When he finally said: "Eadith, are you hurt?" she stared at him in wonder. Hurt? She had been raped, in front of his very eyes - was he blind?  
"Eadith, please - talk to me - " he almost begged. Yet he refrained from touching her again and she didn't know if she was relieved or not.  
She realized that in fact she hadn't uttered a single word since he had come to save her. Honestly, she wasn't sure at all that her voice could be trusted but as she looked into his worried eyes she knew she had to try at least.  
So she swallowed hard and tried to clear her throat. It still hurt. But what, for heaven's sake, could she say anyway? "I'm okay?" She wasn't. Not at all. She was in shock, almost choked, her body hurt, from the violent fall as well as from the rape. Yet Finan was here, kneeling in front of her on the forest ground, his eyes pleading for an answer.  
How did that happen? She wondered. Her mind could not figure out how he had been able to find her here, let alone arrive just in time to kill her torturers.  
"Are you hurt, Eadith?" he repeated, speaking slowly as one would speak to a small child.  
So she answered, finally, forcing her voice to work.  
"Not ... badly..." The words came with a croaking sound.  
The tension in his face gave way a bit. He nodded.  
"Look, we have to get away from here. Do you think you can ride?"  
Ride?  
She had no idea if she could stand on her own feet, let alone mount a horse.  
"Yes," she said firmly, struggling to get up without his help. He held out his hand. It was just a polite gesture but she didn't accept. She knew she couldn't bear to touch him. If it was because her body and mind were still in shock or if her feelings for him simply couldn't cope with the humiliation of the rape, she didn't know. She would sort it out sometime - but not now.  
She focused on her unsteady legs and tried to calm her breath, while she looked out for her mare. The horses were not far, gathering between the trees, standing close together. The turmoil had frightened them, too, and they seemed to seek comfort in the closeness of each other. A comfort I should seek with Finan, Eadith thought and it was even more painful that she couldn't bring herself to do this. She felt like there was an invisible barrier between them, a wall of shame, pain and speechlessness.  
With a soft groan she leaned against her mare's warm comforting body and managed to pull herself into the saddle. She felt Finan's worried look on her back, so she turned and forced a smile on her lips.  
"I'm alright," she said insincerely. "We can leave now. Please." The last word came as a plea, she was in fact desperate to leave this place of horror - as if by leaving the place behind she could also get rid of the pain... well knowing that this was just a childish hope.

Finan took the lead.  
They rode slowly, crossing the woods, leaving the two riderless horses behind. Eadith was content that she could simply follow in his wake, her eyes focused on his broad back, covered by his leather armour, while his muscular arms were bare, showing the scars that told from a lifetime of fighting. She remembered how she had secretly watched him before, marvelling at his physical attractiveness. How her heart had beaten faster when she imagined how these warrior hands would feel on her bare skin ... how these strong arms would hold her tight and crush her to his chest.  
Now she felt nothing of this attraction anymore. She just felt empty - as if the past events had drained her of all emotions save dread. Yet the physical pain was still present. Her back hurt with every step the horse took, her throat was still aching from the brutal grip of the Dane, and she knew there was blood on her thighs from the rape. She knew she probably should have rested, if only for a while, so she could recover and regain some strength but she didn't want to slow them down. So she suppressed the pain, the physical as well as the emotional, and concentrated on the simple task: just to follow the man ahead of her.  
When Finan finally stopped and jumped off his horse, she did the same without thinking, but her legs trembled and she had to lean against the mare.  
Nevertheless she tried to sound firm.  
"Why do we stop?"  
Finan eyed her with concern.  
"We wait for sunset. It is safer to travel in the dark," he said and added: " I'll take you to Coccham. You will be safe there. It is about two hours from here."  
Her eyes narrowed.  
"You shouldn't stop to let me rest," she argued. "Why don't we move on, try to reach Coccham as soon as possible? I can do that!"  
He didn't look convinced, but he explained: "It's not because of you, Eadith. Not only, at least. We will have to cross an open stretch of land. There are Danes out there. In the daylight we would be seen from afar. In the dark our chances are much better. I know this area quite well, we will find our way easily, don't worry. But I'd prefer not to bump into Haesten and others of his kin."  
He reached for his saddle, taking a blanket-roll down. His worried gaze slid over her, as he handed her the blanket.  
"Take your rest, Eadith, please. Lie down and take a nap, if you can. I will watch over you, I promise."  
She hesitated shortly, then took the blanket and wrapped it around herself, sitting down on the soft forest ground. Exhaustion washed over her and she realized that she was in fact tired to the bone. Finan settled down opposite her, his back against the trunk of a tree.  
He was watching her, running his hand through his hair, before he spoke to her again: "I'm so sorry, Eadith..."  
The desperation in his words startled her.  
"Sorry?" She echoed dumbfoundedly.  
Finan sighed, looking miserable. His hand was still ruffling his hair.  
"I was too late," he confessed. "I was too late to spare you ... that! "  
Eadith stared at him openmouthed. Her cheeks burned, and she was thankful for the shadows surrounding them.  
"It wasn't your fault!" she protested, feeling ashamed. "You couldn't know - I mean, how could you even find me? I don't understand ..."  
"It was young Uthred. He saw you at Readingum, in the company of Haesten and his men. The inn, you remember?"  
The monks.  
The realization hit her. The familiarity of the young monk's face. It had been young Uthred then, Uthred's son, who had turned to serve the Christian god. She remembered having seen him in Winchester.  
She nodded, looking into Finan's eyes again.  
"I remember...," she murmured. Yet she didn't understand the connection, so she added: "But where have you been then? Did young Uthred seek you out? I thought ... I thought you were in Northumbria, with Uthred and the others ... " Confusion filled her and she covered her face with her hands, murmuring "I don't understand..."  
Finan shifted uneasily, before he started to explain: "I was in Coccham then, on my way back to Winchester. Uthred sent me there, with a message for King Edward. I stopped in Coccham for the night - and then, in the early morning, young Uthred was at the gates, begging for entrance. He had ridden from Readingum to Coccham to ask for help. Told us he had seen you with Haesten and his men, held against your will. So I rode out to find you - but on the road to Readingum I came across Haesten and one of his Danish bastards and I saw you weren't with them anymore. Didn't fight them, just watch. Haesten's shoulder was bandaged and I figured out it might have to do with you. That's why I was roaming around, looking for you..." He rubbed his face, sighing. "If I had come earlier, I would..."  
"Don't!" She cut him off, looking straight into his dark eyes. "It's not your fault. If you hadn't come for me, it would have been much worse. You saved me, Finan, and I - I haven't even thanked you yet!"  
She felt awful now, remembering how she had pushed him away when he had tried to hold her. He deserved more than that.  
He had come for her, after all, he had saved her ... he cared. A little bit of warmth seeped through her body, for the first time since the Danes had attacked her.  
She moved a little closer, close enough to gently touch his hand.  
"Thank you," she whispered softly. He looked at her, absently caressing the back of her hand with his thumb. The touch sent little sparks through her insides.  
She felt torn. Part of her wanted to pull back her hand while the other part didn't want to break this tender bond between them. So she remained motionless, silent, their eyes still locked.  
Eadith wondered if he could sense the emotional turmoil she was in. She couldn't tell.  
Finally he said hesitantly: "I don't know how I ...can give you comfort, Eadith. You - should speak to another woman, I guess. But I want you to know that - you don't have to feel ashamed. You're the bravest woman I've ever met."  
Eadith stared at him wide-eyed, feeling tears rise to her eyes. She turned her hand and felt how their fingers linked, firmly. There was nothing more to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here he is - FINALLY, after so much horror and pain for Eadith! Sorry for having delayed it so long - and it's not over yet for these two...


	10. The getaway

They rode through the darkness like thieves in the night.  
At nightfall clouds had gathered in the sky, and now the sight was dim, but Finan moved on without hesitation. As he had told Eadith, he was no stranger to this area, having roamed it during many hunting trips with Uthred or Sithric, when they spent time in Coccham. He led her along grassy paths that wound through the marshland east of the Thames, avoiding the wide trade road that connected Coccham and Readingum.  
Eadith needed all her concentration to keep up with him in the darkness. She had indeed fallen into a short fitful sleep, born from exhaustion, and when Finan shook her gently to wake her, she almost jumped.  
His bearded face creased with worry but she hurried to smile at him. To have him here beside her still seemed unreal, as if her lonesome dreams had suddenly materialized. But she knew as well that also her darkest nightmare had become true, when the man named Tjodr took possession of her body. The ache in her body was a constant reminder and she longed for the moment when she could shed her soiled dress and wash blood and dirt from her skin. Yet what she longed for the most was to change into her former self, unscathed and self-assured, but she had no idea if and when she could transform into that woman again.  
While they made their way through the night, she wondered about her feelings for Finan. She had desired him so much during their time at Winchester, so much that she had decided to burn all bridges behind her and flee to Frankia, flee from her own hopeless desire for the man. Now all she felt was pain and confusion. She couldn't tell if she still wanted him or if the horrible events had extinguished every flame of desire within her.  
Still she knew he cared. He wouldn't have come for her, searching the surroundings for her, had he not.  
Theda's words came to her mind again: "Someone who cares..." The memory of the old healer gave her a pang. If she could only talk to her again, tell her about what happened, ask her for advice...maybe Theda could help her sort out her inner turmoil. Eadith remembered the healer's calm strength, the wisdom she held within, and wished she could find a strength like that in herself. But right now all she felt was exhaustion.  
Finan held up his hand and she closed in on him, her heartbeat quickening.  
"What is it?"  
"We have almost reached the end of the marshland," he explained while he looked around warily. "Coccham is just about two miles ahead. You will see the ramparts soon. There is a stretch of grassland we have to cross now, before we reach the road and then the gates. If someone is waiting there, watching the road, he can easily spot us and launch an attack." His dark eyes seemed to gleam in the dim light. "If that happens, you spur your horse and move on as fast as you can, towards the gates. Don't hesitate - don't look back! Promise me that!"  
A big lump seemed to nestle in her throat.  
"What do you mean - what about you - " she protested, but Finan shook his head, giving her a rakish grin meant to cheer her up but it didn't. "They will regret messing with an Irishman, I promise!"  
"I will not - " she started but he cut her off.  
"Do as you're told, Eadith," he said in a tone that left no room for arguing. So she shut her mouth and looked at him with worried eyes. His expression softened.  
"It'll be alright, Eadith," he said earnestly. "We'll be in Coccham in less than an hour - safe and sound!"  
She looked into his face and nodded, while she tried to ignore the growing fear that seemed to get hold of her. To her surprise he reached out and cupped her cheek with his calloused warrior hand.  
"You will NOT look back and you will NOT stop," he said again, his dark eyes holding hers for some heartbeats that seemed like an eternity to her. She moved to cover his hand with hers, but he let go, turning his horse. "Come on!"

It didn't take them long to cross the meadows, speeding up the horses, and when they arrived at the broad street, Eadith indeed could make out the outlines of the ramparts ahead, not much more than dark shadows in the night, but her heart leaped nevertheless.  
Coccham - finally!  
There, about a mile ahead, it was, her shelter, the place she had so desperately tried to reach. The place where she could finally rest, tend to her wounds - and recover.  
Her mare seemed to feel her desperate need to get there for she sped up and easily closed the distance to Finan who had slowed down, waiting for her.  
He smiled at her encouragingly ... but then, in a horrible moment, his expression changed, and she knew what was happening right away, even before she turned in the saddle to follow his gaze.  
Several shadowy figures came out of the darkness, streaming down the hills beside the road, heading towards them. They had ambushed them.  
"Go now!" Finan yelled, pulling his horse around. "Go, Eadith!"  
From now on everything seemed to happen in an unreal, slow motion-like way.  
She heard her own scream, the whinny of her mare when she kicked it hard, making the horse rush off ... and they chased along the road to the distant fortifications. From the corner of her eye she could see Finan riding beside her, crouching on the horseback, spurring his horse like she did.  
Yet the screams of their pursuers and the drumming of the hoofbeats seemed to come closer, and Eadith knew they were approaching. Then, suddenly, Finan disappeared and she couldn't help but turn around during their wild gallop. Horrified, she watched him rein in his horse and turning to face their attackers, while he drew his sword.  
NO! she wanted to cry. DON'T DO THIS!  
But he wouldn't hear her and it was too late anyway, they had already reached him and Eadith could hear the clashing of the blades, the angry shouts of the fighting men, the terrifying sound of battle she knew well enough now. There were four of them, closing in on him, while the fifth one broke away, coming up on her. She had slowed down a bit, her thoughts racing while a dreadful fear took hold of her.  
He won't make it! He CAN'T make it! They will cut him down!  
She was so caught in her state of shock that she didn't really notice the fourth attacker until he was just a few meters from her. Aghast, she looked at his face contorted by rage. Haesten's face.  
"Got you, bitch!" he growled, reaching out for her, but her mare shied away and he reached into the void. The sudden move of her horse snapped her out of her paralyzed state.  
She was not surprised to see Haesten, only surprised he had found more men to fight for him in such a short time.  
So this was it. She had to face him again. Had to kill him or die. She ripped her seax from her saddle and took a swing, missing him closely, trying not to think about Finan who fought for his life just a stone's throw away. And for her life, too.  
Haesten spat at her.  
"Killed my men, did you, bitch? You and that Irish bastard!" he snarled and his face twisted with a wolfish grin. "Tell you what - when we're finished with you, me and my men, you'll beg for me to kill you!"  
She refrained from answering to the threat, instead she whirled her horse around to lunge at him again. This time she cut his forearm, causing him to swear, but his smile didn't go away. "And first of all, slut, you'll watch as we cut your lover to pieces - take a good look!"  
His words hit their mark, the most vulnerable part of her heart - stirring the panic again and she couldn't help but glance over to Finan and his attackers. He had cut two of them down, so it seemed, but even from a distance Eadith could see the others pressed him hard.  
That was when Haesten got hold of her arm, almost tearing her from her horse, while she screamed, stabbing at his arm again, but he wouldn't let go of her and she twisted and turned desperately to get free.  
And then, all of a sudden, something changed.  
There were shouts from behind her, the thundering of hooves, and to her suprise Haesten let her go with a vicious curse, turning his horse. She looked around aghast and saw that the gates of the fortress were open. A bunch of horsemen rushed out, shouting, swords risen. It took her panicked mind a moment to understand what was happening.  
Men from Coccham came to their aid. Armed men. More men than Haesten and his warriors would dare to fight.  
The Dane was already shouting at his men, gesturing wildly, while he gallopped back but they were still closing in on Finan, too focused to even notice what was happening.  
And Eadith stifled a cry while she stared at them in horror ... watching Finan fall.


	11. The hands of God

She reached Finan before the others, almost throwing herself off her horse to get down on her knees beside him.  
"Finan!"  
He was lying on his side, his face half covered by his arm, but he moved, groaning, struggling to get up.  
"Finan!" She put her arm around his shoulder to support him. He turned his head to look at her. His face was smeared with blood and contorted with pain, though he tried to smile at her.  
"I'll be okay," his voice was hoarse and weak, the Irish brogue more noticeable than usual, now that he was weakened by pain. "Don't ya cry, lass ..."  
She hadn't realized that tears were streaming down her face all the while. Now she raised her hand to touch her cheeks and froze, when she saw that her hand was covered with blood. Finan's blood.  
Frantically, she wiped her hand on her dress before she brought it up again, this time to touch Finan's bearded cheek. A flash of memory shot through her mind, a memory of the moment in the woods when she had cut him and the others from the tree, when he hit the ground beside her and she stroked his face to make sure he was alright.  
He wasn't alright now. She had no idea how badly he was wounded but there was a lot of blood and it scared her to the bone.  
Absently she kept stroking his cheek, the softness of his beard, trying to steady him but she felt his weight heavier against her supporting arm and realized he was weakening, his strength leaving him with the blood that spilled from his wound, wherever that wound was.  
"Yes, you'll be okay," she whispered, leaning closer. "Don't you dare to leave me here alone, Finan ..."  
Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and when she looked up, she saw that they were surrounded by a group of horsemen. The Danes were gone. If they had fled or died on the swords of the men from Coccham, Eadith couldn't tell but she didn't care either.  
One of the men had dismounted and stood beside Eadith now, looking down at her and then at Finan who was breathing heavily, trying to sit up  
"Let me help you, Lady," the man urged. "We have to bring him inside. The nuns will take care of him."  
Eadith turned her tear-streaked face upward, hesitating, not wanting to leave Finan's side but of course she could not carry him, not even move him anyway. So she just nodded and let them take Finan from her arms to hoist him onto one of the horses, with a man sitting behind him to keep him from falling.  
"Lady Eadith!" She had been too lost in her thoughts to notice the young man who had approached her but now he spoke. "Please come with us, Lady. You're safe now."  
She looked into the face of the young monk she had seen in the inn, two days ago. Uthred the younger... who had ridden to Coccham to get help.  
She stood slowly, wiping her tears away with her blood-stained hands. From the worried look on the young man's face she could tell that she must look horrible.  
"Please, Lady," he urged. "You need rest." He offered her a hand to help her mount her horse, and so she accompanied the men to the fortified town.  
Coccham - finally! How could this long desired moment feel so painful? She had reached Coccham - but the prize might be too high...

Despite the fact that it was late at night, there was a crowd of people awaiting them when they rode through the gates of Coccham.  
The wide, torch-lit yard was full of men, women and even children who were gathering around them, staring curiously at Eadith, whispering to each other - yet she hardly spared them a glance. She was only looking out for Finan and when she spotted him in front of a big building that was most certainly Uthred's hall, she jumped off her mare and started to run towards him, pushing the people aside.  
She saw that they had put Finan onto a makeshift stretcher and were carrying him into the hall. A slender, blonde woman in a plain nun's robe stood at the entrance of the hall, giving orders and pointing inside.  
When Eadith reached the entrance, the woman turned to glance at her and gave her a warm-hearted smile.  
"So you must be Lady Eadith," she said earnestly. "I've heard of you though I wished we had met under different circumstances. My name is Hild. I am the abbess of the nunnery here."  
Eadith stopped, taken aback. So this was Hild, the nun who had fought at Uthred's side - she remembered how the men had been talking about her. The "warrior nun" they had called her - but she didn't look warrior-like right now. Her beautiful face was creased with worry while she surveyed Eadith.  
"My women will take care of you, Lady," she offered. "Are you wounded?"  
Eadith realized how she must look like in the eyes of this woman: disheveled, her face smeared with dirt and blood, her dress soiled with blood all over ... her own blood, the Dane's and - Finan's.  
She felt herself starting to shake as the adrenaline left her and she knew it was the aftermath of fear and shock. Hild grabbed her by the arm, leading her inside and urging her to sit on a wooden bench close by, while she called to a maid to bring some wine.  
"Please, Lady, take some rest," she ordered. "And again: are you wounded?"  
Eadith took a deep breath.  
"No, no, I'm not," she said hastily, "But Finan - he is wounded badly!" She felt the tears welling up again. "Please, I have to go and see him!"  
Hild pressed a cup of wine into her hand.  
"First you drink - then I will take you to him! I won't have you faint here right before my very eyes!"  
Eadith opened her mouth to protest but the abbess was emanating a calm authority that stifled any attempt to argue. So she drank obediently and felt the effect of the sweet wine at once: her trembling subsided and her breathing calmed.  
Hild nodded.  
"That's better now. So come with me!"  
And she led her through the hall to a side chamber, well-lit by candles and torches. There she saw Finan, lying on a wooden table with two men and an elderly nun standing beside him. They had removed his leather currass and were actually cutting off his tunic, revealing his blood-stained upper body.  
Eadith had to press her hands on her mouth to stifle a cry, when she saw the horrible gash at his side, just above the hips. There was so much blood! She must have given a whimper though, because the abbess squeezed her shoulder encouragingly.  
"He's been through worse, Lady," she whispered. "Believe me, I've known him for quite a long time..."  
Eadith tried to suppress a sob. She stepped closer and the men made room for her, letting her bend over Finan. He seemed to be unconscious, and Eadith took his face between her hands. She was sobbing now, while she stroked his face and beard with trembling hands.  
"Dear god - please, do not take him from me!"  
The squeeze on her shoulder increased.  
"Have faith, Lady!" the abbess said. "Sister Audra has great knowledge of healing. He will be in good hands."  
When Eadith didn't move, the nun called Audra gave a snort.  
"If you don't step aside, I cannot start taking care of him," she grumbled. To the men she said: "I need water and bandages. Be quick! - My salves, needle and thread from my chamber, mother Abbess!" She looked at Hild, ignoring Eadith, and even in her grief Eadith was surprised to see the abbess nod and hurry outside.  
Audra gave her a sharp glance.  
"So, as it looks that you are not willing to leave, you can as well help me, Lady! If these fools manage to bring some water, we have to clean the wound and rinse the blood so I can see how deep the gash is!" She frowned. "If you're going to faint, you better leave now!"  
Eadith took a deep breath.  
"I won't." She wiped her tears away and took the bowl of water that had finally arrived out of the man's hands. If it was from the effect of the wine or from pure desperation, she couldn't tell, but she had somehow regained her composure and felt calmer now.  
She did as she was told and rinsed the blood from the gash so that Audra could inspect the wound. She had to rinse again and again for it wouldn't stop bleeding but then the old nun gave a satisfied grunt.  
"It seems his guts are intact," she commented, her words making Eadith feel sick. "We will sew the wound then. You hold it tight - like this!" She demonstrated to Eadith what she meant, causing Finan to twist and groan for the first time. Eadith's stomach turned into a cold knot when she saw him suffer, but she pushed her feelings aside and pressed the edges of the wound together. Finan winced, and Audra hissed to the men who stood beside them: "Hold him down - now!"  
They did as they were told, and Eadith watched in astonishment as the old nun took needle and thread from a basket that the abbess handed to her and started to sew the edges together as quickly and skilfully as a seamstress would sew a garment. When she had finished, Finan had fallen back into unconsciousness and didn't move anymore.  
Eadith watched him fearfully, but Audra wouldn't let her dwell upon her worries.  
"Wine - quickly!" she ordered and to Eadith's surprise she poured the blood-red liquid onto the wound. For the first time during her work the old nun had a smirk on her face. "Our Lord Jesus himself has blessed the wine ... and I have seen it work miracles on wounds like that, you know!" She gestured to Eadith. "Now go and dress the wound with these bandages - tightly!"  
Together they wrapped the bandages around Finan's body, and Eadith couldn't help but think of the day when Finan had done the same for her, bandaging her broken ribs. It was less than a month ago, but it seemed like an etermity now. Things had changed, she had changed - and now it was him, lying in front of her, fighting for his life.  
Audra threw her a glance as if she had read Eadith's mind and crossed herself.  
"I did what I could, Lady. His life is in the hands of the Lord now."


	12. Keep the faith

Eadith found herself in the quiet of Hild's chamber, in the deepest hour of the night, some low burned candles and a cup of wine sitting on the table in front of her.  
From across the table the abbess was watching her with thoughtful eyes.  
Eadith had finally been able to shed her soiled dress and wash blood and dirt from her skin, scrubbing her body fiercely, not caring for the bruises - as if she could rinse and brush away the humiliation of rape and abduction. The clean dress felt fresh and comforting on her skin, but her body and soul were still aching and the fear for Finan weighed heavily on her.  
At Hild's insistence she had eaten, a simple meal of bread, cheese and fruit, yet everything tasted like dry leaves in her mouth and she ate just to soothe her growling stomach. The strong red wine worked better. She was into her second cup now and started to feel more warmth in her belly and in her soul as well.  
Then Hild spoke and her words tore Eadith out of her slightly wine-fogged state.  
"So how did that happen in the first place?"  
Eadith blinked.  
"What - do you mean?"  
Hild crossed her armes and studied her. On her beautiful face curiosity mixed with concern and something else, maybe a hint of suspicion...  
"Finan told me you were in Winchester, when they left for Northumbria. At King Edward's court. So how come you got to Readingum, in the company of Haesten and his warriors? Did he dare to abduct you right under the King's eyes? Quite daring for a man of Haesten's kind..."  
Eadith felt her cheeks glow.  
"No ... no, he didn't abduct me from the King's court," she started to explain. "I - had left Winchester. Haesten found me in Hamric." As Hild raised a brow, she added quickly: "I was on my way to Frankia. I ... have family there, in Normandy."  
"Oh," was all Hild said. She seemed to consider this new fact, and Eadith felt somehow compelled to add: "There was nothing left for me in Winchester. My brother was killed by Sigtryggr's men. With Uthred and his men gone, I had no reason to stay there any longer. I decided to start a new life then." Now she met Hild's gaze, returned it somewhat defiantly.  
"I see," the abbess nodded. "I'm just surprised, for it looks like your feelings for Finan go beyond friendship - don't they?" The clear blue eyes seemed to look deep inside Eadith's soul and the younger woman lowered her gaze.  
An awkward silence spread between the two women, before Eadith said haltingly: "It's my fault. And I am so sorry for it. If it weren't for me, he would not be wounded so badly ... it's all my fault!"  
And to her own surprise, she broke in tears.  
Hild reached out and put a comforting hand onto Eadith's.  
"You should not blame yourself for this," she said softly. "I can see that you've been through much hardship...and it's not just your body that has been hurt. I was only wondering ...for I could see that Finan went crazy when he heard of you being captured by Haesten and his band."  
Eadith looked up confused and met her ice-blue gaze.  
"But - " she started, being interrupted by the abbess.  
"In all these years I've known this Irishman," Hild said. "I've never seen him so close to panic like in this moment. He would have ridden straight through to Scotland, had they taken you there. And you care for him, too, I have seen that. So what could be there in Frankia, to give up everything you had here ... the love of a man like Finan and the friendship and respect of Uthred and his men?"  
"Love?" Eadith echoed, while she wiped frantically at the tears that ran down her cheeks.  
"There is no 'love'. I kissed him, once, and he - he pushed me away, heading to the whorehouse right after that! So much for love, you see! In his eyes I'm still Lord Aethelred's whore ... "  
Hild shook her head vigorously.  
"Stop being so blind, Lady Eadith!" she said harshly. "Finan has seen too much in his life to care about gossip like that. He knows better than to judge a person for her past, because his own past is full of fatal errors and wrong turns till the day he met Uthred. Do you know where they met anyway?" As Eadith shook her head, she continued: "They met in chains - on a slaveship! They spent about two years there together, two years of horrible labour and pain - but they survived, finally being rescued by Uthred's late brother Ragnar and his men. I was with them, then, I saw them - almost starved, almost broken not only in their bodies but in their souls. But they survived and emerged from their fate, even stronger than before." She held Eadith's hands in her own now, squeezing them tightly. "There's much more to Finan than meets the eye ... behind his easy ways and his jesting. And believe me, Lady, he cares for you. He would even die for you." 

Hild's words still whirled through Eadith's head, when she returned to Finan's bed.  
It might as well happen that he dies for me.  
He still had not regained consciousness, his face ghostly pale in the flickering light of the candles. They had bedded him as comfortable as possible in one of the chambers adjoining the great hall, covered with blankets, a small fireplace in the corner gave enough warmth to keep the nightly chill away.  
When Eadith had come back to the room, she had found young Uthred keeping watch at Finan's bedside. He stood when he saw her approaching.  
"I have prayed for him, Lady," he said simply.  
"So will I," she promised, taking a seat beside Finan's bed.  
Young Uthred looked miserable. He took a step, then he said: "I should have come with him. He should not have been alone out there, looking for you. I should have been at his side..."  
Eadith looked up and they shared a glance.  
"You're a servant to god," she said. "You are not a warrior!"  
The young man swallowed hard.  
"My father wanted me to become a warrior, you know," he confessed. "And I have been on a battlefield before - at Tettenhall. It was horrible, then, and I never wanted to fight again. But Finan was all alone - I should have been with him. I'm sorry."  
"You shouldn't be," Eadith replied earnestly. "If there is someone to blame, it is me. I should never have left Winchester. It is all my fault." She felt tears welling up again and wondered how there could be any tears left - she had cried so much in these past hours.  
If he dies, I will cry for the rest of my days, she thought bitterly, then scolded herself for dwelling in sadness and desperation. She might be in love with him, but there were others, too, who would suffer deeply when Finan should die.  
First of all, Uthred. The thought hit her deep inside as she realized that she hadn't thought of Uthred at all, being focused only on her own grief. Now as she looked into his son's worried face, she knew that losing his best friend would break Uthred's heart. He would never forgive her for being the one responsible for that.  
She buried her face in her hands when desperation struck her.  
The young man beside her cleared his throat.  
"Would you mind me praying with you, Lady?" he asked softly. "Maybe ... it would help us both - and him, too?"  
And so they knelt together beside Finan's bed and murmured their prayers ... and to her surprise, Eadith finally felt lighter at heart than she had in days. When young Uthred had left her, she took Finan's hand and bent down to him, kissing his bearded cheek tenderly.  
"I will not let you leave me, Irishman," she whispered. "I promise I will do all I can - for the sake of you and me and all the people who love you..."


	13. The power of love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for keeping you waiting and thank you so much for your nice comments! Here we go again - hope you'll enjoy the new chapter!

Two days later Eadith began to realize that praying and hoping might not be enough.  
Finan's condition had grown worse. A fever had taken possession of him, leaving him drenched in sweat, tossing and turning restlessly, tortured by dreams that made him groan and murmure words Eadith could hardly understand. She spent hours and hours beside his bed, cooling his face with a wet cloth, trying to make him drink a cup of water or swallow a spoonful of broth. Hild urged her to take a rest but she refused stubbornly until she finally collapsed into a sleep that was closer to unconsciousness than to a slumber... only to jump up each time Finan cried out in his fever dreams.  
Sister Audra came to check on him several times, helped her change his bandages and put on salves, but his pain wouldn't ease and neither would the fever. Not once had he regained full consciousness.  
"I have done all I could," Audra said at last, and there was a hint of resignation in her voice. "If we do not succeed in bringing his fever down, he will not survive." Her dark eyes were full of sorrow as she looked into Eadith's fearful face. "I am sorry, Lady, but we should give him the last rites, just in case..."  
"No!" Eadith cried out, bracing herself against this suggestion, knowing deep inside that the old nun was right. They had to prepare for the worst.  
"He is a Christian, Lady, and he would want us to do this for him," Audra insisted but Eadith wouldn't hear her out. Gathering her skirts she fled from the chamber, ran outside in a desperate need for fresh air. When she had reached the entrance, she held onto one of the wooden pillars, panting. It was a beautiful morning, the autumn sky blue with small heaps of white clouds that couldn't block the sunrays.  
How could that be? Eadith wondered. How could the sun shine so brightly, how could the people smile and walk around doing their daily chores while Finan lay inside, struck down by fever and weakening by the hour! She wanted to scream in desperation but she bit her lip and the people who passed by eyed her warily, keeping their distance. They knew Finan, of course, and no doubt they had heard about his critical state, rumours always spread quickly. Eadith wondered if they blamed her for it or if it was her obvious desperation that made them uneasy. Only a little girl with long braids dared to run past her, reminding her of little Aelina.  
Then it felt as if a veil had been ripped from her very eyes.  
Theda.  
The healer.  
If there was hope for Finan, it was Theda and her healing skills.  
Eadith turned on her heels, running towards the nunnery, her head spinning.  
When she entered the hall, it was empty and she realized the sisters must have retired to their morning prayers. She looked around, uncertain what to do, but she couldn't just hold back and wait. So she hurried to the door that had a big cruzifix above it, knowing from her previous visits that it led to the chapel. In fact it did, but when she entered, a young nun stepped in her way.  
"Shhh, Lady, it's the hour of our morning prayer," she admonished, putting a finger to her lips. Eadith heard the familiar murmurs of prayer that usually never failed to soothe her, but this time she was too upset to calm down and she whispered: "Please, the abbess - I need to speak to her!"  
The nun shook her head and looked at her indignantly.  
"The abbess is not to be disturbed now, Lady! Please have patience till the prayers are finished."  
When will that be? Eadith wondered. Her body was tingling with restlessness.  
She fidgeted with the sleeves of her dress, saying: "It is urgent, sister. Please. It is ... about Finan!"  
To her surprise - and relief - she saw a flicker in the eyes of the young nun.  
"Is he - " she began anxiously, but Eadith interrupted her at once.  
"He is alive. But I can't tell for how long. So you see - we don't have time," She took a deep breath. "Please, sister, I need to talk to the abbess. NOW!"  
"So be it," the girl said breathlessly and turned away, hurrying to the wooden benches where the nuns had taken their seats and were immersed in prayer now.  
Eadith sighed, marvelling at the fact that Finan's charm worked not only on peasant maids but on novices as well. Had she not been so desperate she might have felt a sting of jealousy, but she was far beyond that now.  
It didn't take long until the young nun returned, accompanied by the abbess. Hild tilted her head towards the door and spoke only when they had left the chapel.  
"What is it, Lady Eadith?"  
Eadith swallowed hard, then said bluntly: "There is a woman I met on my way to Coccham. She is a healer - and I guess, a good one. Maybe you know her. Her name is Theda. She might be able to save Finan's life..."  
Hild's eyes narrowed and Eadith felt she was right. The abbess knew Theda.  
But Hild said defensively: "This woman - Theda. I do know her, you're right. She is ... kind of a healer. But she also is a woman who believes in the old gods. She is said to be a witch. It is impossible to bring her here."  
Impossible.  
The bluntness of Hild's words hit Eadith like a punch but she was determined not to give in.  
So she replied sharply: "I know you're not a woman to believe in superstitious nonsense like that, abbess Hild! And as for the ancient gods - this is Uthred's estate and he is not a christian himself, so why bother?"  
Hild fixed her with a sharp gaze from her clear blue eyes.  
"The nuns would not take this, Lady Eadith," she said firmly. "Sister Audra would never - "  
But Eadith didn't hear her out.  
"The nuns cannot help him! Sister Audra talks about giving him the last rites!" Her voice was loud now, almost a scream. "I cannot let him die! He saved my life - "  
The expression of Hild's face changed as she seemed to realize that in fact it was a matter of life or death now. She reached for Eadith's arm, squeezing it lightly.  
"You're right. There's no time to lose then."

Eadith would have ridden back to Theda's cottage herself, in her eagerness to get help for Finan, but she knew too well that by doing this she would put herself in danger. If she fell into the hands of Haesten a second time, all had been in vain - Finan had fought and been wounded in vain. Moreover, she doubted she would even be able to find the way again.  
So she agreed when the abbess chose two young warriors who claimed to know the area well and sent them out to bring Theda to Coccham. It was risky nevertheless. Haesten's group might be out there still, seeking their revenge, but the young men were in good spirits and eager to help. They seemed to be much in awe of Finan and his fame as a warrior and Uthred's right hand man and knew what was at stake.  
Eadith watched them ride through the gates, wondering if and when they would return. She refused to consider the chance that they might fail. They had to succeed.  
She turned her look upward to the sky. It was still before midday, so maybe they could be back before dusk.  
Briefly she wondered if Theda would agree to come with them or if she would refuse to trust them. After all, they were strangers, warriors, and Theda might be suspicious - yet Eadith had instructed the men to tell the healer that Eadith sent them - that she needed her help desperately - that it was a matter of life and death. Now she prayed the old woman would believe them.  
She realized she had remained on the same spot, still staring at the gates which were now closed again, her hands clasped together. Without turning around she felt someone coming nearer and she was not astonished to hear Hild's voice from behind her.  
"I hope sincerely that this woman is as good a healer as you believe," the elder woman said dryly. Eadith crossed her arms to keep herself from shivering despite the bright sunshine.  
"It's what I feel deep inside," she replied, turning around to meet Hild's gaze. This woman has some kind of power to her, she thought but knew better than to tell the abbess. It would only imply the "witch theory" again. "And I pray the men will return with her..."  
She gave Hild a nod and hurried towards the great hall, feeling she had already been away from Finan far too long. Every time she returned to his bed she was torn between hope and fear - hope that he might be awake and fear that he might have stopped breathing.  
So she felt both disappointed and relieved to find him still feverish but alive. The young nun, Ewa, had watched over him and now made room for Eadith, somewhat reluctantly it seemed but Eadith ignored it. She stroked back Finan's fever damp hair and he moved a little under her touch, murmuring words she couldn't understand ... a name - Conall? What was haunting him in his dreams, she couldn't tell but she sensed there was a lot of pain and guilt from his past that she had no idea of.  
She remembered what Hild had told her about his time on the slave ship together with Uthred and wondered what had brought them there. In fact, there was so little she knew about this man and yet, her thoughts seemed to revolve around him day and night. She had considered to ask Hild about his past but shied away from doing that. One day she would hear it from Finan himself - or she wouldn't hear it at all. It didn't matter, not now. The only thing that mattered right now was that he survived. 

It was well past sunset when Eadith heard bustling voices and quick footsteps from outside. She knew who it was even before the door was opened and Hild hurried inside, followed by Sister Ewa and a figure wrapped in a dark cloak.  
Eadith's heart missed a beat - she let out a sigh of relief, while she rose from her stool. The visitor shed her cloak, revealing the wrinkled face she had so much hoped to see.  
"Theda - "  
The old woman gave Eadith a warm smile and reached for her hand, squeezing it briefly.  
"Now let me see," she said, while she stepped beside Finan's bed to contemplate his face and feel his skin. "And you tell me everything, lass!"  
So Eadith started to speak, the words just spilling out of her mouth, telling Theda everything that had happened from the moment Finan had been cut down. The healer listened intently, while she kept examining Finan's body with quick, soft hands. She even removed the bandages and inspected the wound, the ugly stitching that held the edges of the wound together. She touched the raw, swollen flesh so softly that Finan didn't wince like he had done when Sister Audra changed the bandages. She even smelled at her fingers after touching him and nodded.  
"The wound has not festered - a good sign! ," she murmured, half to herself and half to Eadith who stood very close. Eadith let out a breath she hadn't realized she had held back all the time while she watched Theda examining him. "My bag, lass - quick!"  
Eadith handed her the linen bag and she took out an ointment jar like the one she had given to Eadith, a few days ago. She applied the ointment to Finan's wound with quick, experienced touches, but he moved a little and moaned nevertheless and Eadith hurried to take his hand. It was damp and hot, too hot still.  
Theda threw her a knowing glance but continued her work silently. When she had finally finished and the wound was bandaged again, she ordered Ewa to boil water for tea. After the novice had left, she turned to look into Eadith's face.  
"I will not lie to you," she said earnestly. "The fever has been going on too long, it has weakened him a lot. But I still believe he has left enough strength to fight it. He is a man who won't give up easily, so much I feel."  
"He has survived a slave ship," Eadith said openly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement and realized she had forgotten about Hild's presence completely.  
Now the abbess approached, exchanging glances with Theda.  
"Indeed he has," she agreed. "More than two years, as far as I know. He is a man who will not die easily."  
"I guessed so," Theda said simply, adjusting the blankets around Finan's body again. She looked at Eadith again. "I will brew a potion for him to bring the fever down. And you stay at his side, lass." Her gaze wandered to where Eadith's hand was clasped around Finan's. "You will keep the thread from being ripped ... you will hold his soul in this world. The power of your love will be stronger than the spinners, do you understand?"  
Eadith heard a disapproving snort from where Hild stood but Theda's eyes still hold hers and she wouldn't look away. She didn't really understand what Theda was referring to, could only guess that it had to do with the pagans' belief. She knew she should be appalled by such heathen stuff but she wasn't.  
"I will," she said firmly and to her surprise, she saw Theda smile with satisfaction.


	14. Out of the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short one but I didn't want to keep you hanging too long ...

"You're face looks much better," Aelina said, tilting her head in that special way Eadith remembered so well. It made her smile, but she tried to look earnest all the same.  
"I'm glad to hear that," she replied. "It feels much better, too - thanks to your grandma!"  
Aelina beamed at her and Eadith couldn't stop herself from stroking over the blond head. They were sitting beside each other on the docks, legs dangling above the mud-green waters of the river Thames below them. The midday sun was strong for a day in late september, and just to sit here, enjoying the warmth of the beautiful day and watching the water flow by, was a distraction more than welcome from the sick room.  
Her heart felt lighter than it had in days.  
Finan's fever had dropped, and in the morning he had fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep. She had still worried because he hadn't woken up but Theda seemed to be very content.  
"This is a good sleep, lass, a healthy sleep!" she had said. "He needs it to regain some strength."  
So Eadith had let the old woman usher her outside, where she almost tripped over little Aelina who had slept in front of the door to Uthred's hall. To the girl's pleasure she had hugged her spontaneously and taken her to the kitchen to get some breakfast.  
"Granny wouldn't leave me alone in our cottage," Aelina explained while spooning lots of warm porridge into her mouth. "So the man had to put me onto his horse and let me ride with him. We rode very fast - I was a bit scared, but only a bit!"  
Eadith smiled at the freckled child face.  
"I'm glad you're here," she said honestly. "I would have worried, had you stayed behind alone."  
She was glad indeed to have Aelina around her, the girl reminded her a lot of young Aelfwynn, and her carefree babbling made her forget her worries, at least for a while. They walked around the village, the child holding her hand without shyness. Eadith was well aware of the villagers looking at her, and she was certain it was well-known that Aelina was living with a woman many considered a witch. She didn't mind, nor did Aelina.  
Yet, when they finally made their stop at the docks, the girl said thoughtfully: "Theda is not my real grandma, you know. She took me in with her, when I was very little. My mum had died of a fever and I was all alone."  
Eadith looked at her, a wave of pity rushing through her, but Aelina didn't look sad.  
"I don't really remember my mum. But Theda told me about her. She looked a lot like me, with blond hair and freckles. And she loved me very very much ... but the spinners had already cut the thread and took her to the other world."  
Here it was again. The spinners.  
"Who are the spinners?" she asked without thinking. Pagan misbelief, a reproachful little voice inside her warned, but she was too curious.  
Aelina shrugged.  
"I dunno a lot. They are three very old and very big women. Giant women, Granny says. They weave the fate of every man and every woman. And when they cut the thread, one must die..."  
You will keep the thread from being ripped...  
Despite the warmth of the sun Eadith shuddered. Heathen talk, she thought but she couldn't shake off the picture of the giant women, weaving the threads of fate.  
Aelina turned her big blue eyes to her.  
"But Granny says they cannot take your man - not yet. This is because your fates are woven into one from now."  
Eadith opened her mouth to say that Finan was not her man, but Aelina's gaze slid to something or someone behind her, and with a shiver she looked in this direction, only to see Theda rushing through the open gates, waving at them.  
Eadith's heart started to race with both fear and hope and she rose quickly to meet the old woman. Her fear eased when she was close enough to see the smile on Theda's face.  
"He is awake," the healer said. "And he asks for you."  
That was when Eadith started to run.  
She ran up the slight incline to the gates, as fast as she could, across the courtyard and into the great hall. Strange enough, her feet seemed to slow down the closer she came to Finan's sickroom, and when she had finally reached the door, she stilled, hesitating. She had longed so much for this moment, had cried and prayed and hoped, but now - to her own confusion - she was selfconscious, almost scared.  
"Don't you want to go in?" said a small voice behind her and she realized that Aelina had followed her, standing right behind her now.  
"Oh, I will - of course," she stammered, while the child eyed her expectingly. So she took a deep breath and entered.  
Someone had stuffed some pillows and furs under Finan's back so he could sit a bit upright and face her when she came towards his bed. He looked pale and exhausted but there was a gleam in his dark eyes, reminding her of his former mocking and jesting look. He stretched out a hand and she stepped closer, feeling a smile spread over her own face.  
He said her name with a hoarse voice, taking her hand into his.  
"It's good to see ya well ... I 've been worried about ya."  
She stared at him openmouthed, not trusting her ears.  
"What's that?" she blurted out. "You've been unconscious for days, closer to death than life ...I was almost crazy for fear about you - and you talk about being worried about ME??"  
Her outburst made him furrow his brow.  
"I ... don't remember," he said slowly. "I only remember me fighting against the bloody bastards and seeing Haesten, that arseling, getting hold of you..." He shook his head, but it seemed to hurt because he stopped at once, grimacing. "And then ... I was down - and you sat beside me crying... "  
His hand clenched around hers so tightly it almost hurt, but she let him. For a while they remained silent, then a sparkle returned to his eyes.  
" Crazy for fear, then? About me?" he mused with a lopsided smile. "Sounds good..."  
Again she was speechless.  
"Finan - "  
But he pulled her closer, if weakly, and she bent over to kiss him softly on the mouth. When she straightened again, she saw he had closed his eyes again and knew that exhaustion had overcome him - while his mouth was still twisted into a smile.


End file.
